


Dangerous Patterns

by skreev



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Combined Routes, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Novelization, Pining, Slow Burn, long fic, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:21:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 122,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24241261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skreev/pseuds/skreev
Summary: ---Completed---Edelgard and Hubert have a history. Their future is still uncertain. Edelgard will remake the world in fire, yet enemies lurk on every side, and no one can be trusted. No one, that is, except each other.A novelization that follows the history of Edelgard and Hubert from their earliest days through the academy and onward.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/Hubert von Vestra, Linhardt von Hevring/Lysithea von Ordelia, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 113
Kudos: 118





	1. Prologue: History

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to @Nybbas for her scholarly comments on the first drafts!
> 
> CW: Abuse in Prologue

Once, Hubert and Edelgard had been engaged.

Hubert didn’t so much remember the event itself. More so, he recalled the fact of it the same way he knew any other detail from his early life. He was born on the 17th of Great Tree Moon. He fell down the stairs at age two and broke his arm. And oh yes, at age five he was formally betrothed to Edelgard von Hresvelg.

It didn’t mean much back into those days. Back then, she had just been the ninth child of Ionius IX, one more head in the gaggle of heirs without much hope to inherit anything but the expected dowry for a princess. It was meant as a pat on the head to House Vestra, a _thank for your years of service, here have a spare princess_ type of deal. To the von Vestras, it was the sign of their dedication to the royal family; to the von Hresvelgs, a mere relief that one more child’s future had been secured.

While he didn’t remember meeting Edelgard, he did remember understanding that he was betrothed. Hubert didn’t really understand what it meant to be engaged, nor did he quite understand what his father meant when he told him that he was to be her servant.

“I thought I was her husband,” Hubert remembered whining, after Edelgard had slipped from a tree branch and bruised her arm.

“One day you will serve her as husband but until then you are still a Vestra,” his father had told him, with the wisdom of a mature nobleman—his father knew all too well how shaky such contracts were between nobles, how much could still change between now and Edelgard’s official age of majority.

But the nurses and governesses that flocked at Edelgard’s side encouraged their affections. When Hubert and Edelgard would pretend to have tea or hold court with her army of stuffed bears or fight evil magicians ( _as surely any husband and wife would do_ ), the nurses would squeal and pet their hair and tell them what a happy couple they would make. When Hubert would kiss her cheek or when they would take their naps clutching hands, the nurses cooed and whispered sweet things to each other. What a good pair they would make. What pure love would result out of this.

* * *

_Hubert cringed as his father’s belt bit into his back. His eyes cast down on the ground, but he could hear Edelgard whimpering. He lifted his eyes only to see her frozen in fear, tears streaming down her face. Lord Arundel stood behind her, his hands sinking deep into her shoulders, rooting her into place._

_“It’s not his fault,” she sobbed. “It was me. I started it.”_

_“Silence,” Lord Arundel said. His hands pinched into her skin, and she flinched. “Watch.”_

* * *

Growing up, Edelgard hadn’t been permitted many friends, but she had her siblings and Hubert, so what else did she need? She too didn’t understand what Hubert was supposed to be—her mother, even distasteful of the arrangement with the von Vestras referred to him as “that boy.” Her father hadn’t seemed to like it either—he kept referring to him as her vassal and warning her to treat him as such. It was, strangely, Uncle Volkhard who had arranged the matter.

Once, she had tried to ask her oldest sister, Gerlinde, but Gerlinde had just told her to be happy with the arrangement.

“At least you’re not engaged to a Bergliez.”

“What’s wrong with that?” She must have been six or seven. It was just before Uncle Volkhard whisked her away to the Kingdom. Before they were taken to the underground.

Gerlinde, wise, old Gerlinde—Gerlinde, who Edelgard later realized was just a child herself—merely snorted.

“You like him, don’t you?”

“Yes.” It was a childish sort of like. She liked that he was nice to her, and she liked that he always let her pick the games.

“Then that’s all you can hope for,” Gerlinde said, as she braided her hair. _How vivid that memory was, Gerlinde’s hands knitting through Edelgard’s brown hair, the gentle reassuring tugs against her scalp._ “You should be happy. You and Hubert get along at least, and if your mother has her way, you’ll be married to some strange prince or old lord who you’ve never met.”

“Why doesn’t my mother like him?”

“She thinks it a waste to marry you off to a von Vestra when you have a crest,” Gerlinde said. “Says you can do better. She was horribly mad with father when it was arranged. She thinks we should have given them Dagmar.”

Of the eleven children of Ionius IX, only four had crests. Gerlinde and Dagmar had no crest, no hopes, no value.

Soon, none of that would matter. Soon, none of them would remain. None of them except for Edelgard that was.

So many of those early, happy memories were swallowed up in the darkness.

* * *

_The crack of the belt echoed in her ears. Uncle Volkhard pressed down on her, his nails sinking into her skin. Edelgard remembered the darkness in this moment. She remembered her siblings’ screams every time the belt touched skin. Hubert did not cry or scream, although his body shook and his lips bled from biting. Blood erupted from the welts on his back._

_“Now,” Marquis Vestra said, “apologize to Lady Edelgard.”_

* * *

Edelgard remembered very little about being in the kingdom. She remembered Marquis von Vestra dragging her from the throne room by the hood of her cloak as she screamed for her father. She remembered riding north to the Kingdom with Uncle Volkhard. She remembered Uncle Volkard going away one day with a smile and a glint in his eye, and returning a week later, his skin unnaturally smooth, his eyes roving over her like he was appraising a jewel. And then she remembered suddenly returning to Enbarr, seeing her siblings for a brief bright moment only to—

She remembered the darkness.

Gerlinde and Dagmar and Friedrich and all the others—she remembered their screams. She remembered small, clumsy Albrecht shivering on the table and Margarethe begging for freedom. She remembered the faces glinting above her in the bloodied madness: von Aegir, von Vestra, and their flock of masked scientists. 

When she left the darkness, there were just a few brief months of light. Her father, she was told, was still around, but no one would let her see him. One by one, her siblings had perished in the dark.

Hubert was returned to her.

“Your hair, it’s changed,” he said to her, the first time they were permitted to be alone again. Her sweet brown locks had withered into white.

Edelgard didn’t know how to respond. She nodded and looked down at her hands.

“Where were you?” he asked next. Edelgard suddenly burst into tears.

In those months of confusion—of the closed doors behind which Uncle Volkhard and Lord Vestra hid, of the whispers that raced between her nurses’ mouths, of the fear and pain that wreaked her body—Edelgard vividly remembers another thing. 

Crying into Hubert’s shoulder and him holding her against him. She remembered sobbing until she fell asleep there, ensconced in his little arms.

It set a dangerous pattern for the future.

* * *

_Hubert stared at the floor again. His eyes focused hazily on her boots. “I am sorry, Lady Edelgard,” he intoned._

_“For?” Lord Arundel demanded roughly. Hubert felt his father’s shoe nudge at the wounds on his back._

_“I am sorry, Lady Edelgard,” Hubert said again, “for my impropriety and indiscretion.”_

* * *

He had tried to go after her. At ten years old, Hubert had escaped and, determined to reach Fhirdiad, launched a rescue mission of his own. He knew a bit of magic. He had learned how to summon sparks and tiny orbs of dark magic. That was enough to startle and shock the first round of men that his father sent after him, but not enough to delay his capture forever.

For three years, he waited. His father forbid the subject of Edelgard. Hubert was afraid to ask after her, and he began to assume that like so many noble contracts, their betrothal had fallen apart. He had not expected to see her again.

She returned shortly after his thirteenth birthday. No one had told him that it would happen. Instead, one day, he walked into his father’s office in the palace of Enbarr, and there she was. She couldn’t help but run into his arms, and he couldn’t help but embrace her—just as they had when they were small children.

“Edelgard!” Lord Arundel said sharply. There was something different about him. His face contorted into a sharper sneer. A strange darkness lurked behind his eyes. “Propriety!” 

Edelgard’s arms dropped sharply to her sides. Her smile disappeared.

Later, Hubert and Edelgard sat in the library outside the Marquis’ office. A strict distance had been enforced by Lord Arundel’s servant, a stern looking man that stood between them as they sat on separate couches. Whenever Edelgard tried to talk about the kingdom, he coughed and she shut up. Whenever Hubert tried to tell her how much he missed her, the man would warn him of expressing inappropriate affection. 

His father’s office hid behind a closed door. Screaming erupted suddenly. 

“Is that how it is?” he heard his father yell. “You promise us the world when you need us, and then you take it all away when it suits you.”

Later, they both learned that the engagement was called off. Marquis Vestra ranted about it, practically foaming. “He was surprised! Surprised! After he was the one to propose the damn union, he pretended as though he had never fucking heard of it!” He seethed and sucked through his teeth. “They still us need us though. Don’t worry, Hubert. Your future will be secure. You will still serve the Lady Edelgard. They’ll realize they still need us.”

Hubert was given a room next to hers and a long lecture on propriety from Arundel’s elderly servant. He was only to enter her outer chambers in the day after her maids had dressed her, and he would never encroach into her bed chambers. He would deliver her letters and read them to her while she ate. He would never touch her without permission. He would accompany her outside and keep her on schedule. Lord Arundel would always inform him of where she needed to be. He was not to ask about the Kingdom or anything that had happened in the three years prior.

There were moments when they were left alone. Edelgard often just sat in her chambers and stared off into space. She didn’t speak or eat much. Hubert had to coax her to take her tea.

“Hubert, do you remember when we were kids, and I had nightmares,” Edelgard said, tucked up on the couch. “You would hold me until I fell asleep? Do you think…” She drifted off. Hubert sat down next to her on the couch and brought her into his arms. He was fourteen; she was twelve.

“Like this?” he asked. Edelgard nodded and pushed her head into his chest. He began to stroke her soft, white hair; it reminded her of Gerlinde all those years ago, the way she would braid Edelgard’s hair.

_A dangerous pattern, indeed._

* * *

_Many years later, Hanneman would tell Hubert that his father was a good man. A respectable man. And when he said, Hubert could only recall the humiliation that occurred in his father’s office, his father standing over his ragged back._

_"You had the right idea, you know,” his father would say after Arundel dragged Edelgard away, “We can get you into her bed yet. But your mistake was getting caught. I had no choice then but to acquiesce to the regent’s demands for discipline.”_

_The rage began to build in Hubert’s chest, acid slowly eating at his heart. Heat pooled in his belly, and his fingers began to clench._

_“This sort of endeavor requires tact, boy. If Lord Arundel suspects a thing, he’ll cut off our influence.”_

_Marquis von Vestra spoke as if Hubert were like him, as though Edelgard were some common whore. Hubert bit his lip until he tasted blood. He remembered what Edelgard had told him in their secret meeting, what she had whispered to him in tears. His father caused her pain. He would cause his father more._

_“Think with your brain, not your prick. We need to make you her only confidante. We need her to rely on you.”_

_It was that moment that Hubert knew he would one day kill his father._

* * *

Hubert was sixteen when it happened.

Some nights, Edelgard would wake screaming. Hubert grew into a light sleeper, so that the slightest whimper penetrating the wall between their chambers would rouse him immediately. He would find her twisting in her bedsheets, still half-asleep, caught within the snare of her own memories.

His presence would break the spell. Often, she sought to leave her bed, and they would sit on her balcony.

This night, they lay upon the couch together, her head crooked against his shoulder, his gangly arms wrapped loosely around her torso, their legs entangled upon the cushions. When the wind blew cold and fast, Edelgard would shiver, and he would squeeze her tighter to his chest.

For the first several minutes, neither said anything. They rarely spoke in these moments. Finally, Edelgard broke the silence.

“I thought the dreams would stop, but they only get worse.” Her voice cracked. Her hand found his. They laced together. “The things they did to me…I…” Her breathing grew harder.

“You do not have to say if it causes you pain.”

“I want you to know,” Edelgard said. “I need someone to know. Someone who isn’t one of _them_.” He felt every muscle of hers tense against his body. Even her hand cinched into an iron grip around his. “They made me into a monster. They want me to be a puppet. Like my father.”

“You could never be a monster,” Hubert said.

“They want to use me as their weapon,” Edelgard said. “They say I will remake the world, but in whose image?”

“If you have the power, then you don’t need them,” Hubert said. “You could remake it in your own ideal.” His thumb traced the back of her hand. “What would your world look like?”

“The nobility would be gone,” Edelgard said. “People would have to work to earn such power and prestige. A meritocracy, I guess. And crests wouldn’t matter at all.”

“You could do it,” Hubert said. “Purge their ranks. Bring down everyone.”

“It would be madness,” Edelgard said. “If I fought against them, I’d be all alone. I’d have no one at my side. They’re everywhere. They control everything.”

“You’re never alone while I’m here,” he said.

“But Hubert, I know your...” She suddenly sat upright and twisted around so that she looking down at Hubert. It was an unusual thing, considering her petite size and his awkward height, for her to stare him so fiercely in the eye. “Hubert, where does your loyalty lie? To the Empire? Or to your family?”

Without missing a beat, he said, “To you, El.”

“But if you had to choose—”

“I would choose you.”

“Even if…it was your father that you had to betray?”

Hubert frowned. “What has my father done?”

“When Lord Aegir led the coup against my father, the one who took me from the palace and gave me to Lord Arundel…it was your father.”

The same rage that flooded little Hubert the day that Edelgard left the Empire all those years ago filled him again. He fought against the blindness that overtook his vision. For a moment, he could only think of revenge.

“That bastard,” he said. He looked back up to Edelgard’s eyes. “If he betrayed the imperial family, then he has betrayed our bloodline. He has betrayed me. He deserves to be punished.” 

“Hubert, if I were to defy your father and all the other lords, what would you do?”

Hubert thought carefully for a moment. He remembered the old panegyrics that recorded the feats of his ancestors before him: the Von Vestras would cleave a scarlet path for the emperor to walk. How poetic it always seemed. It was them who worked in the darkness to give the Empire light.

“I would defy them for you,” he said, interlacing his hands with both of hers, “so that your hands never had to sully themselves.”

“And what if I defied the church itself?”

“The church, milady?”

“They control the nobility. They control the relics and the crests. If I am truly going to change the world, I need to strip away the very foundation of evil.”

“I would challenge the goddess herself for you.”

Edelgard opened her mouth as if she was going to say something, but instead, she stared at him, her face unreadable. Abruptly, she bent down and kissed him.

It was this moment that Lord Arundel appeared.

* * *

_After Lord Arundel tore her from the Marquis’ office, she followed him crying down the hall. “It wasn’t his fault,” she repeated again and again. Arundel shoved her violently back into the library._

_“We made you,” he said. “Never forget that._ I _made you. You are destined for better things. You will remake this cruel and factious world. You will tear down our enemies. You must not sully yourself with lesser concerns.”_

_"What is so bad about it? My mother was not much older when she met my father—”_

_"You are a stupid girl,” Arundel said. “You may think you are the great romancer, but doubtless, Marquis von Vestra has been in his son’s ears, telling him to get into your bed so that they can finally rise up from the shadow of the Hresvelgs. If I hadn’t demanded that he discipline his son, he’d probably be congratulating him right now.”_

_"You don’t know Hubert.”_

_“I know his father. I know all the other simpering Lords. They all want the same thing. They see you, Edelgard, alone and without a friend in the world, and they think that you’re their way to the throne.”_

_“I won’t do it again,” Edelgard said. “But don’t take him away from me. Please. I’ll do as you say. But he’s the only friend I have and—”_

_Arundel held up both hands. “That’s what they want. You can’t trust them, Edelgard. I am the only one that can help you. I am the only one who understands what you truly are.”_

* * *

And so ended their youthful dalliance.

And thus began everything else.


	2. Darkness

_Darkness, darkness, everywhere._

_Edelgard curled—broken and bent—on a bed of broken flagstones, her slender arms trying to wrap around her body for warmth. Every breath made her ribs flinch and her eyes blister with tears. The scuttle of a rat made her squeeze tighter into a ball, and she cried out as pain erupted down her spine._

_A face floated in the dark. The face was, at once, her uncle and not her uncle. It bubbled as it morphed; skin stretched and shrunk; bones protruded and realigned._

_“Her hair,” he said, but not to her. A chorus of beaked masks lurked behind him, at once joined with the darkness. “It’s done.”_

_That phrase echoed in her tormented mind._

_“It’s done.”_

_“It’s done.”_

_“It’s done.”_

Edelgard woke, blood on fire. Each scar that lined her ribs and arms came alive, throbbing like veins about to burst. Despite the fury beneath her skin, an invisible weight sunk upon her chest and pinned her to the bed. Shades of masked men leered and faded in the darkness.

She screamed. Panic overtook her brain. Her lungs soon depleted of air. A burning sensation bloomed through her chest. She was alone in the darkness and suffocating.

The door burst open. “Lady Edelgard!”

Candlelight dispelled the shadow men that haunted her bed. Hubert’s voice reminded her— _you are awake._

“You didn’t have to come,” Edelgard said, still gasping. “I have to learn how to deal with my nightmares eventually.” Sensation returned in a slow prickle that spread up her arms and through her chest.

He placed the candle on her nightstand, but he did not come any closer. It was a cautious defiance of her Uncle’s orders. Technically, he was forbidden to even trespass into her bedchambers at such an hour. He broke that rule more and more frequently of late, but even so, he always maintained a strict physical distance.

“You are in pain,” he said. “I have called for your medicine.”

“I do not want my medicine,” Edelgard said. As she pushed herself up, the scarred tendons in her arms seized with pain. “It just makes it harder for me to wake from the nightmares.”

“Something else then to relieve the pain?”

Edelgard grit her teeth. “I will be fine.” 

No matter what happened, she would fall asleep again—eventually—and then rouse from her dreams alone in the darkness. The heavy drapes of her canopy bed made her think too much of the cage that imprisoned her beneath Enbarr. At night, she returned to those murky depths, the echoes of her siblings’ screams ringing in her ears. 

“Perhaps we ought to move you to the balcony?”

A bold suggestion, one he hadn’t made in years. Usually, it was Edelgard who stole away alone to the balcony. Hubert would often find her there in the morning, curled on the couch and wrapped in a quilt pulled from her bed.

Edelgard nodded. She moved too quickly and seized with pain. Seething, she refused Hubert’s pleas to assist. _I have to do this myself._

Standing, her legs buckled and cramped, but soon the sensation flooded away. Edelgard breathed deeply in relief. Hubert turned away suddenly. With a blush, she realized she wore only her thin nightgown. He handed her a robe from her armoire and stared at the nightstand as she slipped into it. 

“Please make yourself comfortable,” Hubert said. “I will bring a blanket and pillow.”

Edelgard stretched out along her couch and stared out over the capital. Pricks of streetlight illuminated the bare shape of the city as it rose and fell over the hills. The cool air against her skin grounded her in the moment. The outdoors brought relief—it was less confined, less caging.

Dutifully, Hubert placed a pillow behind her back and draped a blanket over her. It was hard not to reflect on their youthful romance. Three years had passed, but Edelgard already felt like a different person. Old, she felt old. Weary too. The weight of her young years pressed down on her, increasingly burdensome with the future she would create.

When Hubert had returned to her service, he too had changed. He had always been quiet and a bit awkward—never one to share his feelings or to partake in frivolity. But after a month of “correction” at the hands of his father, Hubert had been returned with a stronger façade: hard and stiff, his movements automatic and his voice zapped of any warmth. At first, Edelgard had struggled to read him at all. Now she knew to find him in the small quirks of his character: a flippant eye-roll, the twitch of a smirk, the way he fiddled with the hair in his eyes.

“Thank you,” she said. “I worry about what will happen when we leave for Garreg Mach,” she said woefully. “I hear that they have strict curfews and thin walls. And I am still not able to control my nightmares.”

“If it brings you comfort, your uncle has arranged for our rooms to be adjacent,” Hubert said. “He seems concerned about attracting attention to your condition.”

“And who will be on the other side? I worry that this is not something I will not be able to hide so easily.” 

“The court doctors will write to the monastery. We can explain it away with a common illness,” Hubert said. “However, you may need to start taking your medicine.”

Edelgard sighed. The idea of drinking the sleeping tea made her anxious. “I hate that you are right.”

Hearing the trepidation in her voice, he said: “But you do not need to worry about that yet. Tonight, you may rest as you please. In fact, if you will not take your medicine, then I will go and ask for the servants to take it back.”

Edelgard pursed her lips. Of course. He was probably eager to slip away. Lingering in her bedchambers so late at night would only stir rumors. It was not the rumors that Edelgard worried about as much as it was Uncle Volkhard hearing them.

So she let him go.

* * *

The morning routine began as it always did. Her chambermaids came in to set the fire. They dressed her and brushed her hair—one hundred strokes exactly. As she took breakfast in the morning room, Hubert entered to read her the daily schedule. 

Neither of them said anything about the night before, but it did not escape her how he called for a stronger blend of tea.

“You will have a visit today from Ludwig von Aegir,” he said, as Edelgard tasted a scone. Almost immediately, she lost her appetite. She dropped the scone with such strength that the saucer clattered. “As unfortunate as that may be, it is worse than you think. He is bringing his son.”

“His son? Why?”

Edelgard turned around in her chair. Hubert stood dutifully off to the side, but his hands were tightly clenched behind his back, and his lips pinched to what Edelgard recognized as a subtle sign of irritation.

“It is worrisome, is it not?” Hubert said. “Apparently, Ferdinand von Aegir will be attending the Officer’s Academy with us.” His voice carried a twinge more irritation than usual.

“You don’t like him,” she said.

"I did not say that.”

"I can tell.”

“I will allow my lady to form her own opinions,” Hubert said dryly.

" _Tell me,_ Hubert.”

Hubert was almost too eager to share. His enthusiasm was not something that expressed itself overtly; to an untrained eye, his expression remained an unflinching, steely mask. But Edelgard knew all the little tells: the way his voice quickened or his eyes ever so slightly narrowed.

“Ferdinand is overly idealistic, too fond of his voice, and thinks that everything he touches turns to gold. He is fond of speaking of you, in fact. Apparently, he thinks the fact that you have been hidden away to be some sign of your ineptitude. Delusions of glory and usurpation, I suspect, not unlike his traitorous father.”

“Well, it may not be a bad tactic to pay respects to Ludwig,” Edelgard said. “And Ferdinand von Aegir is not the only noble heir to be attending the Officer’s Academy with us. Gaining the influence of these heirs may be critical to our goals. They could prove to be important allies when they come into their own.” 

“Indeed. But be cautious.” Hubert warned. “Doubtless the idea that they can use their progeny to befriend or otherwise influence you would prove attractive to these lords, considering how your uncle has kept you confined.”

 _After all, it is precisely what my father has been telling me to do with you all these years._ He didn’t say it, but it hung in the air between them.

Hubert quickly diverted instead. “Von Aegir has his sights on the throne. He controls your father well enough but struggles to gain the upper hand against your uncle. I have long suspected that he considers young Ferdinand to be a candidate for your hand in marriage.”

The idea made Edelgard’s stomach sink and twist.

How little control Edelgard had over her own destiny. Her mind drifted back to her childhood engagement with Hubert and its abrupt end. As a child, it seemed so normal to be engaged—all her siblings were betrothed at an early age—but now as an adult, she recognized marriage as a political battleground. They were pawns of the older generation.

At Garreg Mach Monastery, she would finally be free of her uncle’s pernicious gaze, but she felt like she was walking into a den of wolves. She knew none of these heirs, nor of their disputes and squabbles.

“Hubert, tell me what else you know about these other heirs,” Edelgard said.

“You are, of course, already familiar with parts of House Bergliez. The younger brother—Caspar—will be attending the Academy with you. He is said to be quite eager to make his own way in the world.”

“Good,” Edelgard said. Perhaps she would not need to expend so much energy on recruiting him to her side. 

“Linhardt von Hevring strikes me as unremarkable. He is supposedly very intelligent, although both times I have met him, he has fallen asleep in middle of our conversation.”

Edelgard frowned. Such indolence could not be tolerated.

“As for the Varley girl, she is largely an unknown. She has never been introduced to society, and there are some rather unsavory rumors about why she’s never left the family home.”

“I have never been properly introduced into society either,” Edelgard said. “I wonder what they say about me.” 

There was a knock at the door.

“We may soon find out,” Hubert said, eyeing the door. Edelgard nodded to him, and he went to the door.

“My lady, I present Ludwig and—”

A young man pushed past Hubert with an extended arm. “I am Ferdinand von Aegir!” he declared. His enthusiasm startled Edelgard. Where Ludwig spoke in a soft, mouse-like patter, Ferdinand’s voice filled the room. Edelgard accepted his hand, and Ferdinand dropped to the ground in due reverence and kissed her signet ring.

Hubert’s expression at that moment could have bent steel.

“Lady Edelgard, I must say I am seriously surprised that I have not made your acquaintance thus far,” Ferdinand said. “I hear you are fond of dancing. I am an extraordinary dancer myself, and I would love to compare our styles.”

“Oh, that is wonderful,” Edelgard said. She turned to Ludwig. “I apologize I was not expecting you so early. Hubert and I were—"

“Ah, Hubert, you’re here,” Ferdinand said shortly, as though he hadn’t noticed the scowling figure brooding just off to the side. The two men exchanged frowns before Hubert rolled his eyes and Ferdinand scoffed.

“It is a shame that you have never met my son,” Ludwig purred in his rat-voice. They took a seat at the breakfast table as Hubert called for a fresh pot of tea. “You are both so very much alike.”

Ferdinand could not sit still. He twisted his head to gaze at every corner and drape of the chamber. When he picked up his tea, he inspected the porcelain very closely. “I must say, I expected more out of the chambers of the imperial princess. You must see our manor in the Aegir lands. We recently installed fountains of serpentine marble brought in from Dagda.”

“Must be marvelous,” Edelgard said.

“What is it you do all day in here?”

“I study,” Edelgard said. “I will occasionally spar with Captain Ladislava or Petra Macneary. Are you familiar with them?” Ferdinand shook his head. The heavy attention focused on her made Edelgard squirm. Ludwig grinned lasciviously at her.

“And what weapon do you favor? Don’t tell me. Lances? I will have you know that I will make quite the opponent in that case. I have won three jousts in the last year.”

“Axes, actually.” Compared to Hubert’s brooding reticence, Ferdinand’s bluster exhausted Edelgard. She didn’t understand when she was supposed to speak or what exactly he wanted her to say.

“Axes?” For a moment, Edelgard wondered if she had surprised him into silence, but unfortunately, it was not so easy to deter Ferdinand von Aegir. “I have some skill with an axe. We ought to spar and see who is the better.”

“It must so difficult to receive proper training with private tutors,” Ludwig said. “It will be a good thing for you to strike out on your own, away from your uncle. You are the first Hresvelg to attend the academy in many generations; perhaps the education will help you avoid the mistakes of previous generations.”

Edelgard flinched in anger. _Not now_ , she thought. Von Aegir was still too powerful to contend with. She soothed her expression with a smile and hid her frustration behind a sip of tea.

Ludwig pressed on without further encouragement: “Ferdinand would be delighted to help you make the transition into academy life. We may consider this your formal entry into society. It is wrong that your Lord Uncle has kept you away from everyone for so long.”

“I wonder how you stand it,” Ferdinand said. “Hubert is not known for his conversation skills. You may not know this about me but—”

“Have you won a conversation contest as well?” Hubert asked. Edelgard almost choked on a sip of tea. Ferdinand twisted in his seat.

“Typical Hubert. Perhaps it will be good for Lady Edelgard to finally have some real company around. No doubt her inability to hold a conversation is because you’re the only person she’s associated with all these years.”

“Ferdinand,” Ludwig hissed in warning.

“Excuse me?” Edelgard asked firmly. “Do you find something lacking in my conversation?”

"You’ve barely spoken three words. You are a woman of royal breeding. It is expected for you to be trained in the arts of rhetoric and wit.” 

Edelgard had no response. Hubert’s fingers curled in a familiar pattern—it was a threat. In a second, he could summon a spark or a shadowy orb. Edelgard tensed. It was too soon to antagonize the von Aegirs, neither of whom took any notice of Hubert’s magic. 

“Ferdinand,” Ludwig growled, louder this time.

“You must realize that one day I will be your Prime Minister,” Ferdinand said. “And it will be my job to correct your missteps and guide your actions. I do not intend to be reserved in my criticisms when warranted.” 

_And when I disagree with your criticism, what will you do, Ferdinand von Aegir?_ Edelgard stared down into her tea. _Will you make me your puppet like your father made mine his?_

Edelgard had to bide her time. One day, she would have to make the decision if Ferdinand would be her ally or enemy. Despite his arrogance, he could prove to be a key tool against his father, if only Edelgard could figure out how to sway him to her side.

“I suppose Hubert will also benefit from attending,” Edelgard said.

“Oh, Hubert’s coming?” Ferdinand said dryly.

“Of course,” Ludwig said. “The Vestras have always been excellent at keeping the Hresvelgs out of trouble.” Edelgard had to disagree. She felt her heart seize up in anger. The Marquis von Vestra had delivered her father straight into the hands of Ludwig—

Hubert stepped between her and the von Aegirs. Edelgard held back her sigh of relief. It was as if he could sense her unease.

“Lady Edelgard is tired,” Hubert said. “Her condition, as you know Duke von Aegir, requires frequent rest, and the excitement of your visit has worn her out.” Ludwig and Ferdinand stood, but only Ferdinand bowed as they left.

Alone with Hubert, Edelgard felt as if she could breathe at long last. When Hubert closed the door to her chambers, he looked at her and raised an eyebrow.

“Well, what did you think of Ferdinand von Aegir?”

Edelgard pursed her lips. “He will make a fine prime minister one day.”

Hubert smirked. Edelgard watched him as he stacked teacups on the silver tray. Nothing was said, but after a minute, Hubert chuckled.

“Oh shush,” she said, squeezing a pillow to her chest. 

“My lady, I do not recall saying anything.”

“Fine. I do not like him. Do you feel justified now?”

“I always knew you were an excellent judge of character,” Hubert said with a small smile.

“He’s everything that is wrong with this country,” Edelgard said. “Pompous. Arrogant. Self-obsessed. And why? Because he has a crest, and that apparently entitles him to power. A Prime Minister ought to earn that role, not be born into it.” 

“He will certainly be a thorn in our side at the academy,” Hubert said.

“Still…I’m not sure yet if he’ll be friend or foe. We may need him.”

Hubert considered the idea carefully. “Once you decide that matter, do let me know. There are many poisons that are incredibly difficult to detect—”

“Hubert, no.”

“Or there could be a boat accident on Lake Teutates—”

“ _Hubert_ —” She couldn’t help but laugh.

Most people perhaps would have taken him seriously, and Edelgard certainly knew he could be dangerous. But this was different. He gave her a look that Edelgard learned he saved just for her: a mischievous side-eye paired with a curling smile. He was teasing—at least this time.

“You know, I have heard of people becoming lost in the catacombs below the monastery. If poor Ferdinand wandered down there and found himself unable to get out—”

Edelgard stood on her couch so she could lean over and place her hands over his mouth. Hubert towered over her, so she had to balance on her toes in order to reach him.

“I order you not to assassinate Ferdinand von Aegir,” she said. Hubert froze and met her eye before quickly glancing away. A warmth had risen to his pale cheeks. Edelgard suddenly realized that she had breached the danger zone. She withdrew her hand and waggled a finger at him instead. “I mean it.”

Hubert’s nodded. “Very well, my lady. Now, if you will excuse me, I will see to my other tasks for the day.”

Edelgard fell back down to the couch with a sigh. Typical. Just when everything seemed to return to some semblance of normality, he would leave her, and she would be alone.


	3. Musophobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard arrives at Garreg Mach, expecting a den of wolves. What she finds instead surprises her.

Garreg Mach Monastery grinned like bared fangs opening from the jaw of the mountain. Its white-stone walls outlined the undulations of the mountain—sinking into the crevices and toppling over domes of rock. Somewhere in that sprawl of parapets and towers Archbishop Rhea waited. 

Edelgard pulled herself from the window of the carriage. Just looking at the fortifications made her realize what a monumental task she had set before her. Before, it had all seemed so simple, so straightforward. Now, reality crept in waves and jitters. She couldn’t tell if her shaking was the rattle of the carriage or her own nerves.

Closing her eyes, she breathed in deeply.

“It is natural to be nervous, you know,” Hubert said. “But here you are, free of your Uncle’s gaze. You can begin your plans in earnest now.”

“He will still be watching,” Edelgard said with a deep sigh. “Who knows what he is really planning.”

So much of her future was already sketched out, designed, and planned meticulously, not for her glory but for his. Arundel’s influence—not Edelgard’s—had been vital in installing Jeritza as professor. He had forged Edelgard’s crest certifications to conceal her second crest. Doubtless, he already had numerous other cronies and spies planted beyond those towering ramparts.

The surprise would come when Edelgard had herself coronated as Emperor and purged the ranks of the nobility. She would dismantle the crest system and eliminate the nobility entirely—if she could bring down the church first. If she could eliminate the inevitable opposition from the Kingdom and the Alliance. If she could raise her own army.

If. If. If.

“We should also take the time to study,” Edelgard said. “It will be important to maintain the façade of dutiful students.”

“You have always been an excellent student,” Hubert said. “I doubt you will find it difficult to pass here.”

Edelgard looked back out the window but the curve of the mountain masked the monastery. It hid, lying in wait. 

* * *

Edelgard fiddled with her cravat. A young woman stared back from the mirror. How juvenile, she thought. Her bones ached with premature age, yet this girl staring back at her—in a formal school uniform and bright red tights— seemed too child-like to embark on the destiny set before her.

“Your cloak, my lady.” Hubert held out a mantle in the hue of Adrestian red.

“What is this?”

“It is to signify your position as House Leader,” Hubert said. His hands on her shoulder as he pinned the mantle to her coat gave her a temporary flash of comfort. All too soon, it ended.

Edelgard tugged at her coat and realigned the collar. This was it. She would have to learn to be at peace here, to play the obedient student, the kind of student who took pride in their uniform and formed rivalries with other houses and prayed faithfully during rituals and rites. All while carefully working in the dark to fulfill her true plans. 

The dorms thronged with activity: doors slamming shut, luggage scraped against the floors, drawers creaking open. Although still early, many other students had already arrived. Edelgard stood at the threshold of her room and watched the chaos unfold.

Edelgard suddenly realized what it would mean to be alone in this new world for the first time. It brought back a sick nostalgia, remembering going to the Kingdom as a child and not knowing anyone or anything. Everything had been new and strange, and it ended in darkness.

Her bedroom smelt of lemon and linseed furniture polish. She had a desk and a bed, some drawers beneath the window seat, and a few shelves hammered into the wall. The furnishings were sparse compared to Enbarr but cozy enough, if a little confining.

She heard a familiar scoff, followed by Ferdinand’s trademarked disdain: “Do you think they are aware that you are the Imperial princess?” He wandered into his room. “I must say, your accommodations are not as generous as mine.”

“They are all exactly alike,” Hubert droned.

“No, no, this room does not have nearly as good a view as mine,” Ferdinand said.

“I’m sure Lady Edelgard does not care what her view is.”

“Oh, you must be happy, Hubert,” Ferdinand said. “Ever so close to your favorite Lady Edelgard.”

“And yet not far away enough from you,” Hubert snapped.

“Boys, stop,” Edelgard said. They ceased their bickering, if only reluctantly. Hubert watched, scowling, as Ferdinand pecked around her room.

“We must introduce ourselves to the rest of the Black Eagles House, posthaste,” Ferdinand said. Edelgard’s patience began to wane. _As if she hadn’t already thought of that_! “This shall be a prime opportunity for you to establish yourself as an effective house leader. May I suggest forming a communal meal where you—”

Edelgard’s savior came in the form of a pink-haired girl with rose-colored eyes. She bounced out of the room next door and clapped her hands in glee.

“Oh, look at you!” she squealed. Edelgard flinched, but the pink-haired girl merely danced past her and stared up at Hubert. “You are just so tall. How tall are you?”

Hubert appeared taken aback for a second. “Who might you be?”

“Hilda Valentine Goneril,” she said sweetly, leaning close to Hubert.

_Goneril._ That was the Alliance territory bordering Almyra. That meant her brother was General Holst. If her plans ever came to fruition, General Holst would probably prove to be one of her greatest threats. 

Hilda, on the other hand, did not give such an imposing first impression. Edelgard studied the girl carefully. She was even shorter than Edelgard—a tiny, blip of a girl with a big voice and sweeping hair. 

Hilda pushed herself up against Hubert, standing on her toes to measure up against him. “Oh, wow, it must be so easy for someone like you to unpack your things. I’m having the hardest time getting everything out, and all I wanted was to put up this picture that my big brother gave me, and I just can’t seem to get it—”

“That is unfortunate,” Hubert said.

“Hubert! The lady is clearly in need,” Ferdinand said. “Lady Hilda, I may not meet Hubert’s stature but I would be delighted to assist a noble maiden in need.”

Hilda pursed her lips as she studied Ferdinand. “Okay, you’ll do. Come along. Oh, and I hate to ask, but I’m just so tired after carrying everything in, would you mind—"”

“Are you my neighbor?” Edelgard asked quickly before Hilda could steal Ferdinand. Hilda paused. She gave a slight shrug and nodded.

“I guess,” she said absently. She studied Edelgard intensely, biting her thumb. “I suppose if you’re on this floor, you’re a noble too.”

“My name is Edelgard von Hresvelg—”

Hilda’s eyes immediately widened. “You’re a princess!”

Edelgard blushed. “Yes, but please, I do not wish to be treated any differently than any other student.”

Hilda sighed and wrung her hands. “Look, I like to have friends over, and I’ve never been the best with a curfew. None of that is going to be a problem, is it?”

“Not at all,” Edelgard said. Well, maybe it would be, but Edelgard was trying hard to make peace with the students here. “

"Now, who are you?” Hilda said, poking Ferdinand. 

“I am Ferdinand von Aegir, son of the—” Hilda quickly pushed him into her room. 

Edelgard stepped back into her room, and Hubert followed. “You don’t think she’ll cause us problems, do you?”

“Hard to say,” Hubert said. “But I suppose there could be worse neighbors.”

“Like you?” Edelgard said. “You’re not going to start keeping track of my curfew, are you?”

“I know your penchant for evening walks,” Hubert said. “But maintaining a sense of propriety will be important. Who knows what these other nobles are like.” Hubert circled the room, his bright eyes narrowing in scrutiny. He leaned his ear against the wall. “I can hear Ferdinand through the walls but not what he is saying. Perhaps these walls are not quite as thin as anticipated.”

“Good,” Edelgard said. “But I hardly think I will find privacy here.”

A bell rang outside, signifying that they were to gather out in the academy quad. Edelgard prepared herself to meet the students that she would be guiding—her first true test of leadership. The rush of new faces in the hallway overwhelmed her, but among the chaos, a pang of recognition.

Edelgard’s heart dropped. She turned away sharply. “Let’s go,” she said to Hubert.

“What’s wrong?” Hubert’s voice dropped to a low tremor. Edelgard began walking quickly down. She had known this moment would come, but little had prepared her seeing _him_ again.

"El!” he must have seen her too, but Edelgard marched down the stairs and out into the open.

“Who is that?”

Prince Dimitri Blaiddyd. Edelgard kept walking, fists clenched. The air around Hubert crinkled with dark energy. She could feel him march close to her back.

Memories returned in short bursts and snatches. How strange. She had not anticipated this at all, even knowing that he would be here at the academy with her. Yes, she knew Dimitri once—in the kingdom. How could she not have remembered that face?

She was too slow to escape. Dimitri caught up to her. His hair was shorter now, and his jawline had sharpened, more man than child now.

“I had heard that you would be attending the Academy,” he said. “I have been looking forward to seeing you again.” Edelgard looked at him blankly. “Do you remember the time we spent together in the Kingdom? Funny to think that I never knew you were the Imperial princess then.”

“I apologize,” Edelgard said. “I do not remember much of my time in the kingdom.”

His face fell. “Oh, do you remember me at all?”

Few memories of her time in the Kingdom survived. Most of her recollections from that era had been swallowed up in the dark caverns beneath Enbarr.

“Well, to be honest, I have no recollection.” A good lie. She faked a gracious smile and clenched her hands behind her back to hide the shaking. 

“I’m so sorry, El, if I—"

“If you don’t mind,” she said sharply, “I no go longer by El. I would prefer if you referred to me by my full name.”

Dimitri nodded. “If you so wish.”

“Excuse me, my lady, but our presence is required elsewhere,” Hubert said. “If Prince Dimitri would like to speak with you, perhaps I can arrange an appointment.”

“And who are you?”

“This is Hubert. He’s my…vassal,” Edelgard said. “And he handles most of my affairs, so perhaps scheduling through him would be wise.”

“Is this really necessary?” Dimitri asked.

The bell rang again.

“It is wonderful to see you again,” Edelgard forced, “If you’ll excuse me, I must meet the rest of my house now.”

Memories began to drift back to Edelgard, piecemeal snippets of faces and emotions. She envisioned young Dimitri, hair in his eyes, feet stomping on her toes, as she tried to teach him a waltz. She squeezed her eyes shut to block the image. With the good always came the bad. How could she recall Faerghus without also recalling her Uncle’s abrupt change, her mother’s abandonment, the inevitable slide into darkness—

Besides, she could not afford the distraction of such a friendship. Soon, he would doubtless become her enemy, and when that moment came, he would number amongst the first of sacrifices to her crimson path. 

* * *

Caspar von Bergliez’s voice _carried_. They could hear him before they even turned into the Officer’s Academy. Beside him stood gawky Linhardt von Hevring, who was already yawning from the day’s exertion.

“Oh, I see Petra,” Edelgard sounded relieved. Petra was the only one that Edelgard had met before. Duke Gerth had gotten it into his head that the Brigid princess would make an ideal lady-in-waiting for Edelgard, but Petra barely spoke Fodlanese and couldn’t understand the complicated rituals of court, so he soon withdrew her from Edelgard’s service and now disposed of her at the Academy.

“And who is that?” Hubert murmured, looking at a young brunette woman. She met his eyes with a smile that seemed too sharp to be sincere.

“Ah, we are all here!” Ferdinand exclaimed behind them. “I apologize for my lateness. That Hilda is the funniest girl. She seems incapable of understanding the most basic tasks. It is a good thing that we do not train our nobles in the Empire to be so helpless.” He scanned the crowd. “Caspar, Linhardt, excellent to see you again.”

Caspar hollered in reply, and Linhardt didn’t seem to hear him.

“And you must be Bernadetta von Varley,” Edelgard said to the brunette woman.

The woman had a beautiful laugh, one that rang out with such clarity and timbre that Hubert suspected it had to have been practiced. “No, no” she said coyly. “My name is Dorothea Arnault.”

“Wait, I know that name! You’re that songstress from the Mittel Frank Opera company,” Ferdinand said. “I have seen you on stage. I was not expecting—”

“Oh, I know you too, Lord Ferdinand,” she said coolly. “And besides that, I understand that I am in the company of a Princess.” She met Edelgard’s gaze. Hubert wondered idly if this Dorothea would pose a threat. He had not heard of a commoner joining their house. “You’ll excuse me, my lady, if I am not trained in the proper decorum of conversing with a Princess,” Dorothea said, with a dramatic curtsy intended for the stage.

“You can call me Edelgard,” she said. “In fact, I would prefer it if nobody in this house used our official titles. I would like us all to treat each other as equals. I will partake in the same chores and responsibilities as all of you, and I hope you will come to see me as a friend, not as a princess.”

The speech had been smoothly practiced in the carriage. Hubert studied the reactions of the nobles.

“Well, that is a most egregious breach of decorum,” Ferdinand said. Hubert had expected that reaction. “But I suppose I can acquiesce _Edelgard_.” Hubert did not expect to feel such discomfort from Ferdinand using her name so plainly.

Petra nodded her head, and Hubert wondered if she understood fully what Edelgard had said. Linhardt continued not acknowledging anything, and Caspar simply shrugged.

“Not like I’ve got much of a title anyways,” he said. The boy was constantly jittering, jumping, and pacing around the group. “Aren’t we missing someone?” He was right. Bernadetta von Varley was nowhere to be seen.

Hubert glanced around expectantly. It was suspicious that she had not arrived yet. Bernadetta’s absence from polite society made her a particularly dubious person of interest. The von Varleys, while loyal to von Aegir’s regime, had begun overstepping their roles within the Ministry of Religion. Furthermore, considering her father’s reputation for violence and cruelty, Hubert worried most about the Varley girl.

“I’m sure she’ll join us soon enough,” Edelgard said.

“Be careful with that one,” Ferdinand said. “I’ve heard rumors of witchcraft about her.”

“I thought she was just cursed,” Caspar said. “Like she’s secretly half-bird or something.”

“Do you really believe that?” Linhardt asked.

“Yeah, why not? I read in a broadside once that there was this lady out in the Oghma mountains who gave birth to rabbits! Maybe it’s something like that.”

“It’s not,” Linhardt said.

Edelgard had expected a den of wolves—fierce and hungry young nobles ready to pounce and eat her up. She had expected these young men to be mirrors of their fathers—squirmy von Aegir, belligerent von Bergliez, and calculating von Hevring—, but what she found was almost entirely unexpected.

They were almost normal, she thought.

* * *

The moon hung high in the sky when Edelgard retired to her dorm room. Hubert lingered at her door.

“I apologize that you have not unpacked yet,” Hubert said. “I will take care of that first thing in the morning.”

“I can handle it,” Edelgard said.

Hubert nodded. “Well, if you need me,” he said softly, “I’ll be right next door.”

Looking at her small, dark room, Edelgard almost wanted to ask him to stay. Instead, she hastily bid him goodnight. She bent down to her trunk and rifled through for her night clothes. Outside her door, she could hear the other students filing in. Chatter filled the hallways, joined by the staggered shutting of doors.

Edelgard sat on her bed. The mattress had the texture of cobblestone, and the frame creaked under her weight. With only her candle to light the room, it seemed oppressively small. Walls closed in upon her. Noises carried from room to room: drawers banging, feet stomping, a stray muffled laugh.

With a sigh, she blew out the candle. It was now entirely dark.

Sleep did not come easily. As the chaos of the students dimmed to silence, she found her thoughts echoing loudly in her head. Thoughts of her Uncle and the darkness and that wretched year in the Kingdom. Anxieties bubbled up, about Rhea and Dimitri and Hilda. She tried her breathing exercises. Perhaps she should have asked Hubert for that damn sleeping tea.

Just as she began to drift off, a squeak burst out from the corner. She lurched straight up in the bed. Her heart pounded in her ears.

“It’s all right,” she said to herself. “You’re just—”

It came again, following by the scraping of tiny feet. Edelgard sucked in a heavy breath. Panic raced in her mind.

“It’s just a rat,” she told herself. Memories intruded forcibly on her mind. The darkness paired with the rats brought her back to the prison under the Palace in Enbarr. She remembered the prickling ministrations of their paws against her skin. They congregated around her food dish, and after Friedrich died, his body abandoned there for three days, they—

Edelgard felt sick, but she couldn’t leave the bed. All the air had fled from her lungs. There was another squeak and rattle, louder this time. Something scratched at the bedpost, and suddenly, the air rushed into her all at once.

She screamed.

She could hear the rat bolt away over the ground. She shut her eyes. The skittering died away.

There was a knock at the door. Edelgard summoned her courage and went to answer it. It was Hubert, of course.

“Is everything all right?”

As he spoke, Hilda’s door opened, and Hilda leaned out, her hair trapped in a silk cap. Edelgard became very conscious of her presence. It was no longer just her and Hubert dealing with her night terrors. 

“I…I saw a rat,” she said. “I’m very sorry.”

“This isn’t going to become a nightly occurrence, is it?” Hilda asked.

Edelgard shook her head. Embarrassment flooded her cheeks. What other ears must be prying behind these walls? How many of these noble lords heard her scream at a rat?

“Of course not,” she said. “In fact, Hubert, I think I will take my sleeping medication.”

Hubert bowed and disappeared down the hall. He would have to boil water to make the tea so that the concoction worked. Hilda lingered for a moment. Edelgard felt uneasy.

“If it makes you feel better, I’m terrified of spiders,” Hilda said. “We’ll probably call it even at some point.”

Edelgard frowned. As she stepped back into her room, she wondered why Hilda would reveal her own vulnerability so readily. It occurred to her that Hilda didn’t see her as enemy, just as another student. Moreso, Hilda was trying to _sympathize_ with her. Edelgard felt a strange surge of emotion. It was working. They didn’t immediately see through her. They didn’t recognize her as a monster or her Uncle’s puppet or as the future Emperor but as another student.

Edelgard wondered if she knew how to be _just a student._ For so long, she had only survived as a tool.

Hubert returned sometime later with the tea. Edelgard’s stomach twisted at the thought of taking it. She sat at her desk as he poured her a cup.

“You know, if you need someone, I’m right on the other side of that wall,” he said, looking towards her bed. “If you were to knock on the wall or something, I would hear it.”

Edelgard took a sip of the tea. The taste of cloying aniseed coated her tongue. “I appreciate that,” she said, cringing at the taste. What she wanted was not to wake up alone in the darkness anymore. But that was too much to ask of Hubert.

“I will see about exterminating the rats in the morning,” he said. Edelgard took a hard gulp this time. The faster she drank, the sooner it would be over.

The tea always made her feel a little dizzy before it knocked her out. As she stood up from the chair, she swaggered. Hubert caught her arm and guided her to the bed. The drug was quickly overtaking her senses, so the next thing she knew her body had collapsed against the hard mattress.

“Hubert,” she said almost drunkenly. “Why don’t you call me El anymore?” In her waking hours, perhaps she would have realized the answer, but the tea made odd things flash before her eyes—she relived her meeting with Dimitri overlaid with absurd visions of dancing rats.

“I was told not to,” he said.

“Oh, _oh_.” Memories of the _incident_ bubbled back to her. “I’m so sorry for that, Hubert. It was all my fault. All…mine.” Her tongue tripped and slurred over the words. “So...”

Hubert said something else, but with the fuzz of the tea overtaking her brain, she couldn’t make out what it was. Instead, she slipped off into a deep slumber. The tea imprisoned her into a nightmarish realm of rats and beaks.

By morning, everyone knew that Edelgard von Hresvelg was scared of rats.


	4. Scheme

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is time for Edelgard to become the Flame Emperor. Hubert takes his own initiative.

Prisms of color spilled over the bright tiles of Rhea’s chamber. The ceiling opened above them like a cathedral, but here no altar stood—merely the false idol, Rhea herself, presiding at the fore of the room.

Edelgard gathered with Claude and Dimitri, standing in respectful genuflection as Archbishop Rhea scanned their faces and gave a twinkling smile full of artifice and deceit. 

“What a blessed year it is,” Rhea said in a melodious voice, “that the heirs of all three nations have matriculated this year.” Behind her, Seteth loomed. Arundel had warned her about Rhea, but not about this second mysterious figure. He had the same green hair and eyes as Rhea—the same features as the fell star herself. _Was he a Nabataen too?_

Rhea parted her hands in prayer. _“_ It is the purpose of the Church to unite all of Fódlan under the love and protection of the Goddess.”

 _Liar. The Church has only divided Fódlan_ , Edelgard thought. When the Kingdom split off from the Empire, it was the Church who negotiated the peace. So too did they manipulate the succession of the Alliance from the Kingdom—and for what? _So they could control us through petty border disputes and internal politics._

“As the descendants of noble lineages, you have been blessed by the Goddess herself with your crests, destined to rule this land with wisdom, courage, and faith.”

Blessed was not the word that Edelgard could have chosen. _One crest bestowed by the goddess and the other by von Aegir._ Edelgard fought hard not to reveal the turmoil in her expression. _What suffering has the church caused with its obsession of crests?_

“As such, your responsibility is not just to your nation but to the Goddess and the Church itself. You must preserve Fódlan against the enemies of the Goddess.”

Something Arundel said years ago came back to Edelgard. _The Church made their own enemies when they sought to destroy those who did not worship them._ They were the reason that the Agarthans slithered underground. They created the vengeful creatures that wriggled back up to the surface.

Not that Edelgard sympathized with Arundel’s creatures. _Sometimes, to root out the parasite, you must first kill the host._

“I have faith that you will lead your houses with prudence and righteous authority,” Rhea continued. “As part of your duties as house leaders, you will be responsible for guiding your fellow students and leading them both on and off the battlefield.”

_Battle would come soon enough. The nobility would fall, and Fódlan could finally be reborn._ Edelgard swallowed her anger. She wore a mask of sweet understanding, one practiced on the traitorous von Aegir and honed from years in the palace.

She tried to keep watch on the two boys. Dimitri had not spoken to her since that first day, but Edelgard had watched him with curiosity. The commoners in his House admired him greatly, and the professors already spoke fondly of his dedication and honor. Yet his childhood friends who flocked around him constantly seemed uneasy in his presence.

Claude was…well, he was obnoxious. He had an easy casual charisma that made him the bane of the professors but a darling of his fellow students. Most of his own house already loved him in a way that Edelgard was uncertain anyone from her own house would ever come to respect her. Yet that love was mostly born from his free and uncaring attitude, a charm that Edelgard failed to either understand or imitate.

Meanwhile, Edelgard had struggled to get Linhardt to say so much as five words to her, and she had only seen Bernadetta long enough to recognize her purple hair and familiar squeak. Petra struggled to hold a conversation, and Dorothea was constantly apprising her like some jewel she might pawn off in exchange for pin money.

“In one month’s time, you will depart on your first training mission,” Rhea said. Edelgard snapped back to attention. “It will be only the house leaders, to exercise your leadership capabilities and introduce to the type of training and strategy that you will utilize as commanders here at the Officer’s Academy.”

 _Now that was interesting._ Edelgard’s mind began to reel with the possibilities. The two other heirs _alone_ with just one professor to protect them?

“Profess Elouan will lead you in this exercise,” Rhea said, gesturing to the blue-haired professor of tactics middling by the door. “You will depart for Remire Village on the 20th of Great Tree Moon. I hope you will use this opportunity to not only grow as leaders but to reinforce the diplomatic bonds between your nations.”

Rhea dismissed them. Claude made some wise-crack comment, and Dimitri responded with a sharp rebuke, but Edelgard could not hear them over the roar of her own thoughts.

Edelgard immediately sought out Hubert. She found him crouched over a desk in the library.

“Hubert, during our free time today, I would like to take a walk out in the mountains,” Edelgard said, a little breathless.

“Very well, milady. Where shall we go?”

“To the creek,” she said.

“I see.”

The creek was not a creek at all but an old Imperial fortification that had gone to ruin decades earlier. If anyone else knew about it, nobody said, for it was just another mound of mortar decaying on the mountain. By foot, the hike would take several hours through thick brush and rock, but as soon as they had gathered a safe distance from the monastery, Hubert took hold of Edelgard’s shoulders, and with a whiff of magic, he warped them away.

Nobody could know that Hubert knew such advanced dark magic. Mage though he was, the type of magic he wielded came from the subterranean crawlers themselves. It was better for him to occasionally fumble in class to conceal his mastery of forbidden arts. 

The fortification sunk into the woods, its toothy walls hanging heavy with moss and ivy. Birds echoed up in the higher bulwarks. Half of the roof had collapsed, although there were a few chambers still hidden deep inside, beneath magical locks and concealed traps.

“What is that you wished to speak about, milady?” Hubert asked, as they apparated into the cracked courtyard.

“Rhea has given us our first mission,” Edelgard said. “It will only be the house leaders and Professor Elouan. A training exercise, alone in the woods near Remire Village. This is it, Hubert. Our first opportunity to strike.”

Hubert nodded. “What are you thinking?”

“An exercise gone wrong,” Edelgard said. “If we can get rid of Elouan, Jeritza would be the natural replacement.”

“Hm…and how do you propose we dispose of Elouan?”

“Do you suppose we could have Jeritza do it? Disguise himself as the Death Knight—”

“It is too early for that,” Hubert said. “We will need to hire an outside source, somebody no one will miss if they get caught and executed. Bandits are endemic in this region. A surprise ambush would not rouse too much suspicion.”

Edelgard nodded. “But bandits would not attack Elouan alone…Hubert, do you think—What if we don’t just dispose of the professor?”

Hubert raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“There will only be myself, Dimitri, Claude, and Professor Elouan there,” Edelgard said. “If an accident were to occur, no one would question the deaths of the heirs to the Kingdom and the Alliance. If Claude and Dimitri died, not only would the Kingdom and Alliance both lose heirs but they would blame the Church for it.”

“It is too soon to get rid of the heirs. If you were the only one to survive, people might find that suspicious.”

“We could make it convincing. Have them go after me too—”

“No,” Hubert said, so forcefully he startled Edelgard. “I will not see you injured or threatened because of it.”

“I can protect myself—”

“Against a whole troop of bandits who are going to kill any potential allies?”

“Mere bandits do not frighten me,” Edelgard said. “I am far more prepared for true battle than either Dimitri or Claude.”

“Preparation is one thing, but you will be outnumbered! And I will not be there to rescue you.”

“I do not need you to rescue me!” Edelgard’s eyes flashed with anger. “I am more powerful than they realize. I’m starting to think that even you underestimate me. Do you really think me so weak that a few bandits might prove too much?”

Her voice resounded in the empty courtyard. Hubert clenched his jaw, and his eyes narrowed. For a moment, Edelgard wondered if he would finally break his stony veneer and challenge her.

Instead, he ducked his head. “I apologize, milady. That was not what I meant. Only that we cannot afford mistakes this early into your plans.”

Edelgard sighed. “I understand.” Perhaps she had overreacted. She took a deep breath to calm herself. “Do you have any other concerns?”

Hubert shook his head. “I will start at once finding a suitable assassin.”

“No,” Edelgard said firmly. “You cannot be associated with this. If someone recognizes you, it could cause everything to fall apart.”

“I see. And what alternative do you suggest?”

Edelgard steeled herself. This was the moment she had been waiting for, after all, and yet the thought inspired dread. “Hubert, I think it is time that we bring out the Flame Emperor.”

Hubert made a low hum. “I am not going to be able to convince you otherwise, am I?” he asked.

“No,” Edelgard said.

“Then I will contact your Uncle, and we will begin preparations immediately.”

* * *

Much of the intermittent time between making her plans and achieving her plans was spent feigning routine. That was to say that Edelgard had to continue her performance as “ _just another student.”_ Part of this artifice was, Edelgard decided, resuscitating what was quickly becoming the poor reputation of the Black Eagles House.

To her shock and dismay, none of the noble heirs that she had feared so mightily had proven to be even close to adequate students. On any given day, either Bernadetta or Linhardt would be absent from lectures. Caspar attended eagerly but could not seem to manage any notion of strategy, reason, mathematics, or anything more complicated than which end of the sword to hold. Petra’s efforts were admirable but, due to her inexperience with the language, slow.

So to vindicate her house—and by extension the Empire—Edelgard began a study group. 

Almost immediately, she regretted inviting both Ferdinand and Hubert.

“Lady Edelgard, that answer was spectacular,” Hubert said, shortly after Edelgard gave a quick answer to a simple question. “I see that you have mastered the material already.”

“Actually, I must disagree,” Ferdinand said. “Edelgard, your argument suffers from several causal fallacies. I take umbrage with the notion that Emperor Torsten’s success in the Three-Month war was due to attrition tactics and not from the enemy’s tactical mistake of using flanking maneuvers in mountainous terrain—”

Hubert cut in forcibly. “You are wrong, as usual, Ferdinand. The use of flanking maneuvers was only a failure in the Battle of Erasmus Peak and may have still worked if not the deployment of Imperial mages along the eastern ridge—"

“I believe that is hardly an objective opinion. Of course, if you feel so strongly, why did you not answer first? Were you waiting for Edelgard to tell you what your opinion should be?”

Hubert scoffed. “I could say the same for you. It’s almost as though you are waiting for Lady Edelgard to respond so that you can immediately disagree.”

“Boys,” Edelgard hissed. They both stopped talking, but their expressions were still locked in combat.

“Let’s change the subject,” Dorothea chirped. “Hubie, I saw on the bulletin that it is your birthday this month.”

Hubert scowled. He had hoped that no one would notice or care. It bothered him deeply that such a personal detail was plastered over every calendar on every bulletin in the monastery.

“It is also my birthday this month,” Ferdinand said.

“Oh,” Dorothea’s voice fell, as though she had forgotten it. “In that case, we have double the reason to celebrate. How about a party?”

“That’s a grand idea!” Ferdinand said. “We’ll start the year off right. Really show this school a proper, classy affair.”

“Oh, classy, that’s _exactly_ what I was thinking,” Dorothea said with a wink. 

“No, thank you,” Hubert said.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Dorothea said. “You need to loosen up, Hubie. I think that a birthday celebration would be the right time to really get to know you.”

“ _No_ , thank you. I will, however, make whatever gracious attendance will be required at Ferdinand’s celebration.”

Traditionally, Hubert’s birthday was celebrated within the palace with a day free from work, and his father claimed the day as one of his rare holidays. This meant that instead of serving Edelgard, he was forced to pander his father’s idea of paternal affection. Lectures were given. Awkward dinners ensued. The evening often ended with some sort of strange gift (one year, a ticket to the opera; another, a new wardrobe) that had become a bleak metaphor of the widening gulf between father and son.

“Edie, order him to let us have a birthday celebration.”

Edelgard laughed. “I’m not sure that will work.”

Edelgard had always given him small but thoughtful gifts—imported coffee, a new pair of gloves, one year a fine shaving kit—but nothing too ostentatious. It was for the best. If she had given him anything lavish, the attention might have embarrassed him. Besides, he did not wish to curry the wrong favor with his father or Lord Arundel.

“Why not? He always does what you tell him to.”

Hubert had begun focusing intensely on his textbook. The attention made his ears burn. He wasn’t sure why they were bothering with him anyways. His only purpose at this school was to serve Lady Edelgard. If Edelgard forced him to attend a birthday party, he would at least make a polite appearance, but the idea displeased him greatly.

“I believe the greatest thing we can give him is his peace,” Edelgard said. Hubert met her gaze and silently thanked her _. She did know him_ after all.

As he turned back to his studies, Dorothea caught his eye, chewing on the end of her pen. Her eyes darted between Edelgard and Hubert, and her eyebrows flashed.

Suddenly frowning again, Hubert returned to his books.

* * *

It was time to become the Flame Emperor.

The Flame Emperor was her Uncle’s creation, an anonymous figure to cloak Edelgard’s identity as she carried out the whims of the court. Of course, Edelgard had her own ambitions for the figure. 

Ten days before the training exercise, Hubert and Edelgard returned to the “creek.” Lord Arundel had complied with their demands, and the Flame Emperor’s armor had been already sent ahead. Edelgard dressed herself in a small, crumbling croft as Hubert prepared the assortment of harnesses and plates.

“I’m ready,” she said, emerging into the central chamber in her arming garments.

Hubert had laid out the intricate pieces on a trestle table. “Very well, milady. Let us proceed.”

Edelgard placed her foot up a stool. Hubert knelt before her, and starting with the sabatons on her feet, he began to attach the pieces. As he moved to the greaves around her calves, his face perched close so that he could weft the laces around her leg. When he came to the cuisses, his hand brushed the back of her knee as he did the laces and then came up around her thighs to secure the final buckles. Edelgard bit her lip. 

_Stay still_ , she reminded herself. He stood so close she could smell the sharp musk of his shaving oil.

When was the last time he had been this close to her? In her previous fittings for this armor, Arundel had always supervised, as had a gaggle of other servants and aides. Now it was just the two of them, miles away from any other living human being. It was hard not to think of where his hands ran as he tugged and tucked the laces. 

Next came the tassets—a string of hammered plates belted around her waist. Hubert’s hands pressed down on her hips as he situated the pieces to lay flat against her thighs.

“I do think you’re very capable you know,” he said behind her as he maneuvered her into the cuirass. His words sounded wooden and stilted, as though he was struggling to speak. “And you’ll be the most powerful Emperor Fódlan has ever seen. That said, dangerous forces exist in this world, and powerful as you are, it still makes me…tense when I am not nearby to assist you.” His hands moved up along her ribs as he secured the buckles on the cuirass.

“I suppose trying to convince you not to worry about me is as useless as you trying to convince me not to go forward with this plan,” Edelgard said. He moved to her other side to complete the cuirass.

He chuckled. “Milady knows me too well.” She lifted her arms so that he could fasten the remaining buckles.

“Besides, you’ll be there to warp me away if anything goes wrong,” she said. 

He hummed a deep note of discontent, as he brought out the deep black and red cloak. Silently, he laced the cloak into the cuirass and settled the long drapes across her shoulders. His face had furrowed with some displeasure, but Edelgard decided not to ask. She was going to go through with this. 

The gorget came next—a heavy collar of steel that choked her neck. The weight of the steel clamped down on her collarbones, and as the pauldrons were fitted to the gorget, her body sagged under the bulk. Her extra crest gave her strength to maneuver the metal plate, but it did nothing to reduce the heft of the armor or the way the edges dug into her skin.

“Are you all right?” Hubert asked. His head leaned close to hers as he concentrated on the finer details of her armors.

“Yes,” she said. “I always get used to it.”

Hubert slid the helmet over her head. She could still glance out at him without the distinctive mask of the vizor. Here, he paused.

“Milady, if you need me there, I can warp down at a moment’s notice—”

“Hubert, you have to trust me,” she said.

“It is not a matter of trust, milady,” Hubert said. “But seeing as it will soon be my birthday, I hope you would spare me this one indulgence.” 

Edelgard sighed. “Fine. If it will make you feel better, I will call for you to assist if something goes awry. But only if I am in the deepest of danger are you to interfere, do you understand?”

“I do, milady. Thank you.” He bowed stiffly.

Edelgard shook her head. The helmet creaked as she did so. “And here I thought your birthday gift would be hiding you from Dorothea’s party. She’s planning you to entrap you, you know, at Ferdinand’s celebration.”

“If milady will excuse my impertinence, I think Dorothea may prove to be too great an opponent even for you in this matter.”

“Worse than bandits?”

“Shrewder than bandits. A keen tactical mind. She’ll likely predict that you’d tell me and would plan for other avenues of attack.” Hubert attached the red and white visor of the flame emperor to the helmet. “I think we’re ready.”

* * *

According to Hubert’s intelligence, the bandit Kostas managed the largest troupe of bandits in the mountains. He already had a reputation for attacking caravans from the Church of Seiros. When the time was right, Edelgard warped outside of their camp in her full armor.

Hubert took his position behind a palisade of sharp rocks. Here, he could watch the proceedings from the next ridge over.

His blood raced as he watched Edelgard—in full garb as the Flame Emperor—march towards the encampment. She startled a few thieves gambling at dice, and soon, the whole camp had burst to arms.

They circled her like vultures, thieves twiddling daggers and men with iron claws for fists. Hubert could not hear what she was saying, but he did not dare to blink for fear of missing her sign.

His fingers clenched in the right shape; the incantation hovered at his lips, ready to be spoken. From here, he could probably launch a fireball, set the huts to fire, and drive them out in the chaos. Another attack of Miasma, and they would all choke in a haze of darkness.

An ugly brutish man staggered towards Edelgard. Hubert heard the faint echo of shouting. Edelgard remained stalwart, but the bandits erupted into loud cheers.

A behemoth of a man dragged his axe forward and lifted it. Hubert spoke the word “ _tenebris_ ” and his hand erupted in a burst of black flame, ready to swallow the whole damn mountain in darkness.

The warrior and Edelgard faced each in a wide circle of combat. The bandit circled Edelgard with a jeer.

As the warrior swung his axe forward, Edelgard stepped aside—sprightly despite the armor— and grabbed his arm with a gloved hand. The limb twisted with a crunch, and he flipped to the ground. With the other hand, she brought her axe down on his shoulder. The man cried out. It had happened so deftly and with such strength that the bandits began to back off.

 _They say that her extra crest gives her unique strength,_ Hubert thought. He had so rarely seen the abilities for himself. _What grace,_ he mused, _It is almost beautiful, the way she—_

Hubert stopped the thought short and extinguished the fire in his hands. He had no time for sentimentality.

As he watched Edelgard negotiate with Kostas, he ruminated on her grand plan to destroy three birds in one go. He played the situation again and again in his mind. Edelgard would not have the benefit of her magic armor when Kostas attacked for real. It would not be one bandit but a dozen, and she would be armed with nothing more than a training axe. 

Of course, her pride would not suffer any conflict to this plan. Hubert understood clearly what his role was in this affair. It was her job to set the orders, and his to ensure that they went smoothly. So Hubert would have to solve it on his own. Edelgard would not need to trouble herself over it.

Finally, Edelgard put her hand up the familiar signal. The deal was done. Hubert snapped his fingers, and she returned to him.

Finally, he could breathe again. 

* * *

Two nights later, Kostas wandered off from the encampment with a heavy bladder. Drunk and somewhat distracted, he relieved himself on the side of a rock, barely noticing the soft patter in the rock behind him.

A gloved hand grabbed him roughly. A sharp point pricked into the tender flesh at his neck. Another hand covered his mouth with a cloth. As Kostas inhaled to scream, a chemical on the cloth addled his brain. A woozy blur expanded through his senses. 

“I understand that the Flame Emperor has engaged your services,” said a droll voice, whispering into his ear. “I have an addendum to your contract.”

Kostas struggled uselessly, but prickling numbness had begun to spread from the extremities of his fingers out to the rest of his body.

“When you find the party, there will be one young woman among them,” said the stranger. “You are not to kill her. You so much as harm a hair on her head, and I will wreak my vengeance against you.” The hand disappeared from Kostas’ mouth. “Do you understand?”

“I was told specifically to kill as many noble brats as possible.”

“And I’m telling you that if the woman is harmed, I will personally hunt you down and kill you, _Kostas_ ,” sneered the stranger. “So here’s your new plan. Get rid of the teacher. Take the brats hostage. Kill the two boys off, make it look like the church didn’t respond to your demands fast enough, and ransom the girl back. Make it look convincing; nobody can know that she was spared intentionally. Can you manage that? Or should I tell the Flame Emperor that you’ve been indisposed?”

The numbness turned to a sharp fire that tingled beneath his skin. He gargled: “And what incentive do I have to do your plan instead of this Emperor?”

“Your life, and an extra thousand.”

The stranger released Kostas. Kostas’ vision faded to black. When he woke up, the stranger was gone. In his place, there was a note. The strange man hadn’t been a dream. Instead, he left full instructions—an excellently designed strategy, with such forethought and complication that Kostas worried he wouldn’t be able to remember it all.

Fortunately, the note ended with the most important part: _Remember, the girl must live._


	5. Crest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard's plan backfires. But how could she ever suspect that there was another like her? Meanwhile, Hubert gets a birthday present.

It had been Dorothea’s idea.

It started with a rather gruff Kingdom noble staring down at them one morning at breakfast. In his hand, he proffered a satchel brightly designed with floral motifs.

“Does this belong to anyone you know?” he asked curtly.

“Good morning to you too, Felix,” Dorothea sang. Edelgard had heard of Felix—one of Dimitri’s noble retainers from the Kingdom—but this was their first interaction. Dorothea, on the other hand, seemed to know _everyone_ already.

“A lost item? It doesn’t look familiar,” Edelgard said.

“I don’t know, look at that sweet little flower on it,” Dorothea cooed. “Could be Bern’s work.”

“Who?” Felix demanded. 

“Bernadetta,” Dorothea said. Felix shook his head. “Von Varley?”

“Well can you give it back to her?”

“Mmmm, no.” Dorothea smiled. “But I’m sure it will be no trouble for a big strong man like you.”

Felix groaned loudly, but he did not force the issue. As he stormed away, Edelgard raised an eyebrow.

“Are you sure that was the smartest idea?” Edelgard asked. “I’m not sure Bernadetta will appreciate Felix invading her space.”

“This will be good for her,” Dorothea said. “She needs to come out more and meet new people. And it’s not like anyone from our house will be much help. The boys all talk the most vile things about her, and she’s really quite lovely. So creative. She just needs someone to reach out to—oh, I’ve got it!”

And that’s how Edelgard found herself in Bernadetta’s room one Saturday morning. As it turned out, Edelgard was right: Bernadetta didn’t appreciate the intrusion. But Dorothea had a way of sweettalking her way into anything.

“Someone was just showing off your embroidery to Edie and me,” Dorothea had explained.

“R-really? Who? Oh no, they were making fun of it, weren’t they?”

“—and both of us just really wished we knew how to sew as well as you. Would you mind showing us a few of your tricks?”

Somehow that was enough to convince Bernadetta to allow them into her room. The whole affair was a disaster. Bernadetta pressed as far into the corner of her room as she could manage, and her voice barely rose above a whisper. Her hands shook as she tried to teach Edelgard how to thread a needle. 

“So, now, um, knot the thread at the end and push it up from the bottom.” Her voice dipped so low that Edelgard missed half the words, but she nodded along. Bernadetta’s fingers moved deftly with the weft of the needle. In mere minutes, Bernadetta had outlined a simple flower in pink floss. “Ta da,” she said warily.

Frustration rose hot to Edelgard’s cheeks as she tried to match Bernadetta’s prowess with the needle. The task required minute attention. Edelgard could feel a headache forming behind the pinch of her brow. After an hour of excruciating practice, she had emerged with a small handkerchief with…something embroidered on it.

Wandering back to the Black Eagles classroom, she caught sight of Hubert studying the fireplace. 

In his usual fashion, he stood from his seat and bowed. “Lady Edelgard, how was your sewing lesson with Bernadetta?”

Edelgard extended the handkerchief out in front of her. Hubert studied the design carefully. “What a lovely…butterfly?”

Edelgard groaned and leaned against a desk. “It is supposed to be a flower.”

Hubert chuckled. “Well, my lady always excels at anything she puts her mind to. With the proper application and discipline, I am sure you will surpass even Bernadetta.”

The idea of it made her cringe. “I am not certain that sewing is my talent.”

“Well, it is fortunate that you have so many other accomplishments then.” Hubert glanced around at the empty classroom. “Does milady require something of me?”

She had almost forgotten. “Yes.” She waved towards the door, and Hubert closed it softly. “Tomorrow we leave for our training session.” 

“Yes, milady,” Hubert said. “I have prepared your… _travel supplies_.”

“Everything is ready?”

“Yes.” He took a step closer. His voice dipped. “Are _you_?”

The headache from her embroidery lesson expanded into the haze of anxieties that had slowly built up in anticipation of the training exercise. Hubert’s previous words floated back to her: _I will not be there to rescue you._ She reminded herself that she did not need him, but facing the challenge alone was daunting. Everything had to go perfectly. If it failed, who would be there to help her?

“Milady, I have the utmost confidence in you,” Hubert said softly. “I pray that my previous concerns are not causing you much trouble. I only meant—”

“I know,” Edelgard said. “Once again, this is something I must handle alone.” Hubert tried to hand her back her handkerchief. “No. It is yours. Happy birthday. I apologize that I could not get you that coffee you so enjoy. Merchants are held up on the road it seems.”

“I will treasure it.” Hubert folded the handkerchief and placed it in the breast of his coat. “As it were, I have something for you as well.” He slipped out a small vial of colorless liquid. Edelgard took the serum and held it up to the light.

“What is this?”

Hubert was speaking softly now. “It is a poison, milady. Coat a few drops on the edge of your blade, and all it will take is a gentle prick. It will start its work within seconds.” Edelgard opened her mouth, and Hubert quickly add, “Not that I think you need it, but should things go awry…”

“I understand.” The vial suddenly felt heavy in her hand. “I appreciate your vigilance. And your care.”

Hubert bowed again. “Is there anything else you require?”

Edelgard shook her head. “I think I need some time to rest,” she said, although her mind was buzzing, and she wasn’t certain it would ever stop.

* * *

That night, Edelgard dreamed of bandits and poison and bloody fields. Her nightmares divined the fatal result of each crack in her plan. In her dream, she pricked herself with Hubert’s poison and woke twisted in her own sheets.

Edelgard trembled in the dark. Her breath echoed heavily in the small room. Her thoughts had the clamor of a waterfall clashing down over her. The silence of the dorms only seemed to aggravate the commotion of her mind. 

_Alone again._

For a moment, she considered Hubert’s previous advice—to knock on the wall if she felt afraid—but the idea felt childish. How would she ever hide her condition from Claude and Dimitri at this rate? Barely a night passed in this closeted room without a nightmare or restless awakening.

_You can do this_ , she reminded herself. _You are more powerful than any of them. You are the only bearer of the Crest of Flames. They cannot compare._

How could she know how wrong she was?

How could she ever suspect that there was _another_?

* * *

The sun had barely cracked over the horizon when they left the monastery. Recent rains had filled the air with the scent of grass and wet earth. Edelgard felt her mood lift as the town disappeared behind the cliffs. No longer could the walls of the monastery enclose upon her. Out here, she was free. 

Naturally, such feelings could not last. They were only a few hours into their journey when Edelgard encountered the first hitch in her plans. A battalion of gleaming white armor marched to meet them on the road. The Knights of Seiros, no doubt returning from some mission. 

Sir Alois rode at the helm of the battalion. When he saw Professor Elouan, he “hallo”-ed and they stopped to chat. Edelgard paid them no mind, instead listening idly to Claude tease Dimitri.

“You’re taking the Lords out into the woods alone?” Alois bellowed. All three house leaders quieted to listen. “No, no, that won’t do at all! Those woods are teaming with bandits. We’ve got merchants held up in the east, and the Western Church is threatening rebellion in the west—no, I insist. You cannot take them out alone.”

“Give up on it, Alois,” Elouan said. “I’m not having a contingent of knights impeding on the one good trip I get a year.”

“Not a contingent,” Alois said. “Here, I’ll go with you, and just a few knights—just in case. They’re still kids, Elouan. They need someone to look after them.”

And suddenly their lonely little jaunt in the woods turned in chaperoned journey.

Edelgard tried not to worry. Having the Knights of Seiros tagging alone would mean that it would be harder to get rid of just Dimitri and Claude. And killing the Knights would provoke even stronger retribution from the church; they were—according to the doctrine—arms of the goddess herself.

The air no longer smelled so fresh nor did the cool air seem so freeing. It was a long hike to Remire village—even longer with the heavily armored knights clanking behind them. The silence of the outdoors that Edelgard craved so deeply was punctuated with Elouan’s gravelly curses and Alois’ boisterous holler.

Woods and hills huddled close around the clutch of buildings that made up Remire Village. Smaller than the town of Garreg Mach but still a major hub on the highways from the Empire, it consisted of a wide boulevard with a scattering of houses spiraling out from the center. Edelgard scanned every rock and peak, wondering where Kostas and his ilk concealed themselves.

“Well, I suppose we’ll camp here for the night.” Elouan bristled with an aloof edge. Edelgard always felt as though he only barely tolerated his students.

“What, you’re not going to stop into town?” Alois asked.

“The whole point is to teach the lordlings self-sufficiency and survival,” Elouan grumbled. “This is close enough.”

“Excellent!” Alois said. “We’ll just—” 

“No,” Elouan said. “You go somewhere else. They won’t learn anything with you breathing down their neck!” Alois shrugged, and the Knights found a spot just far enough away that Alois could still yell at Elouan.

Camping outdoors provided a whole new experience for Edelgard. Never before did she have the opportunity of pitching her own tent or sleeping on hard ground. The boys reveled in the opportunity—Dimitri and Claude nimbly erected their own tents, trading stories about their own wild escapades in the woods. Claude once had a bear stumble upon his camp; Dimitri once run out of food and ate bad berries.

And Edelgard? Edelgard could barely unfold her tarp without tripping over it. She groaned and tried to unfurl again, only for it to drag in the mud.

If Dimitri noticed anything, he didn’t say it, but Claude—his eyes sparkling and his smirk sharply tilted—immediately identified her distress.

“Here, Highness, allow me,” he said slyly.

“I can manage it, Claude.”

“No shame in asking for help,” he said. “I don’t imagine that the Empire would allow their precious princess to go gallivanting in the woods anyways.” Without her assistance, he began to set up her tent.

“I’m quite all right,” Edelgard insisted. She quickly elbowed Claude out of the way. He held his hands up in defeat. “I will never learn if you insist on doing it for me.”

“Fine, fine,” he said, backing off. “I can see where I’m not wanted.” As he walked backwards, he tripped over Edelgard’s satchel. The bag spilled open he fumbled for his balance. Edelgard’s belongings scattered across the mud. “Ah, forgive me, Highness,” he said in a way that made Edelgard suspect that he had planned this.

Before she could stop him, he began collecting her things off the ground. She dropped to her knees to grab as much as possible before he could get to it, but too late—he found the vial. Claude held it up to the light, eyes narrowing intensely on the poison.

“Now, now, what is this?” he asked.

“It’s medicine,” Edelgard said. “It helps me sleep.” Claude was silent for a moment. “Claude, give it to me,” Edelgard said sternly. “It’s all I have for this trip.” 

Claude broke away from the vial as though from a spell. “Of course.” He placed it into the waiting palm of her hand. “Wouldn’t want to see you in pain.”

* * *

Hubert was avoiding Dorothea.

Edelgard departed early on the morning of his birthday, and that was fine because it spared him the annual awkward exchange of gifts and the specific pretense of aloof formality that accompanied it. This exchange of personal, sentimental items could not signify anything more than the typical relationship between chamberlain and sovereign—a difficult sentiment to maintain between them. At least the daily drudgery had a routine of formality to it. He preferred the mundane and practical element of the handkerchief anyways.

Yet Dorothea did not care about avoiding spectacle. Hubert had been studying her carefully. Some quick letters out to the capital, and Hubert learned all about her history in the opera, her lack of family and connections, and—perhaps most alarming—her liaisons with several wealthy noble patrons.

_Anyone might have hired her to keep an eye on Edelgard._

“You can relax,” she said as she sidled up to him in the library. “Edie already forbid me from any surprise parties.”

Hubert could recognize the signs of mischief. He read her like a hidden assassin: bright eyes; a smile gleaming with a bit too much teeth; hands clutched as though she concealed a dagger in her sleeve.

“What can I assist you with then, Dorothea?”

“I was just coming over to say hello,” Dorothea said. “I get the sense that you don’t trust me, Hubie.”

_Well, that was blunt._

“As of yet, we have barely been acquainted.” 

“You don’t make it easy to acquaint yourself with anyone,” Dorothea said. “Of course, it seems you and I have much in common.”

“I assume that this attempt to associate yourself with me is merely another bid to marry into the nobility,” Hubert said.

A frown flashed on Dorothea’s face. Deep lines creased her brow. She laughed bitterly.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. After all, old friends in Enbarr tell me a certain minister’s son has been writing letters asking about me.”

“Do not take it personally. It is my duty and obligation to ensure that Lady Edelgard suffers no attempts on her life or person,” Hubert said. “As her vassal, I must ensure that nobody poses a threat to her. That includes you, Miss Arnault.”

“She really is all you ever think about, isn't she?” Dorothea leaned against the bookcase. “Look, I know you're doing all this so that she'll like you, but if you go too far, she'll end up pushing you away. Maybe even hate you.”

Hubert shrugged. “This has nothing to do with swaying Lady Edelgard's sentiments. I am simply her humble servant. I do what is in her best interest. Whether she cares for me or not is irrelevant.”

Dorothea laughed. “It really doesn't look that way to me. I bet you'd follow any order Edie gave, if you thought it would make her like you. Am I right?”

_How little Dorothea understood._

“No. I will decline any directive that I deem would not be beneficial to her.”

“Is that right? So, just for example... If Edie commanded you to find yourself a suitable wife, would you do it?”

_That was an odd question._ Hubert was now certain that she was scoping him out as her next target for a wealthy husband. If Dorothea wanted to marry wealthy, perhaps she ought to know better than to go after a von Vestra. Of course, that was not something he could verbalize, so instead he simply said: 

“If it would benefit her in some way for me to marry, then yes, I would marry.”

“It's easy to say that now, with no bridal party in sight. But if it was the day of the wedding? Nah, I don't believe that.”

“I don't care what you believe. My only wish is to see Lady Edelgard fulfill her ambitions. All other matters pale in comparison.”

“Oh _Hubie_. ‘Pale in comparison’? You've seen too many operas. I don't think you understand how the world works. At all.”

Perhaps not but Dorothea failed to understand how _his_ world worked. He had no time for such meaningless affections. His duty to Edelgard was unconditional.

Dorothea suddenly slid closer to him. Hubert frowned. He disliked such overt displays of flirtation. Despite his hostility to her, she didn’t seem to quit. Annoyingly, Dorothea seemed to be one of the few who did not exhibit blatant fear of him at this school. 

She drew a finger towards his chest, and Hubert stiffened. Suddenly, she plucked the handkerchief from his breast pocket. “Oh, this looks familiar. Did Edie give this to you?”

A slight flush rose to his ears, and he wondered if she could notice. “It was a birthday gift,” he managed nonchalantly.

Dorothea hummed. “Oh, isn’t that interesting. And disappointing. I thought she might give it to someone special.” She tucked it back into his pocket and winked.

* * *

Sleep eluded Edelgard. She rested, ramrod straight, under the lopsided flaps of her tent, listening to the bellow of frogs in the woods. Tonight, they learned the value of cooperation and teamwork or something, but tomorrow, they would go to Remire Village to assist with a barn raising. At any point, the bandits would strike.

After hours of waiting for her mind to ease, Edelgard pushed out from under her tent. She could hear Professor Elouan snoring soundly from his tarp.

A few smoldering embers lit the center of the campsite, but all else was dark. Through the canopy of broken leaves, Edelgard saw fragments of starry sky. She sprawled on a bed of roots and stared upwards, the cool wind enveloping her. Already, her mind eased, and the thoughts slowed to a murmur. 

“El—I mean, Edelgard,” came a soft voice. “Is that you?”

Edelgard stiffened. Just when she had escaped the enfolded confines of the tent, Dimitri wanted to entrap her again. She tried not to answer. Instead, she closed her eyes as though she were sleeping. She could hear the soft rustle of canvas and footsteps padding the earth. She sensed his body linger over her.

Never mind, she could not help it. Her eyes opened as she pulled herself upright.

“I apologize. I heard a noise, and I became worried.”

Edelgard sighed. “It is no worry. I do not sleep well at night, and I sometimes do better outside than in.”

“Your condition, is it—”

“If you do not mind, Dimitri, I prefer not to speak of such things,” Edelgard said. The stricken expression in Dimitri’s eyes alarmed Edelgard, and she softened her tone. “I merely suffer from aches at night. It does little else to affect me.” 

“If you do not mind me asking, how is that you are able to fight?”

“You need not worry about me,” Edelgard repeated. “I do not need your pity or your care. I am able to fight because I am strong.” Dimitri hemmed some meek apology. Perhaps she had gone too far. “Believe it or not, exercise relieves my condition. It is when I am stationary that it bothers me most.”

How well had she coached this lie over the years. First her Uncle taught her it, followed by the legion of mysterious doctors that thronged him. Perhaps they could not hide that the princess suffered from mysterious pains—her nightly screams and nightmares made her an unpopular neighbor in the close quarters of the dormitories—, but they could devise clever excuses for it. _A tick bite transpired into a fever, and ever since then, she has suffered from immense aches and pains_.

The truth was that her double crests—that which bestowed her great strength and power—inflicted immense pain as well. What she had told Dimitri was somewhat true; the pain bothered her most in sedentary hours. Fighting provided a release from the energy that sizzled in her bones, from the magic that crowded her blood. How could she explain that? 

“Is there anything I can do to assist you?” Dimitri asked.

“I thank you, but no,” Edelgard said. “This is my burden to suffer alone.”

“How grim,” Dimitri said, and Edelgard bristled in response. How dare he judge her condition. “I only mean to say that…you do not have to suffer alone. You have friends, Edelgard, who care and worry about you.”

_How would he know,_ she thought. Dimitri had a flock of childhood friends and the admiration of his entire house. Dimitri had never suffered the burden of two crests nor the curse of knowledge about what slithered in earthen chambers. Tragedy, perhaps, he had suffered, but his light had extinguished in a single breath. His trauma lasted the span of a day, and though perhaps the sadness lingered, he did not know what it was to persist again and again in fruitless struggle. Her wounds had festered for years, and each scourge from von Aegir or Arundel renewed her anguish.

Edelgard wore her mask well, though. She endured a smile.

“Thank you, Dimitri, for your kind words,” she said. “But I do not wish to be defined by my limitations.”

She thought she saw a grin in the darkness.

“I doubt that anyone would make that mistake with you,” he said. “You know, I believe we should start afresh, you and I—"

A crack exploded from the woods. Edelgard jumped to her feet. “What was that?” Her heart began to pound erratically.

Dimitri rose carefully beside her. Brush rustled in the woods. “A bear perhaps—”

“ _Sh_.” For a moment, all she could hear was their breath. Another rustle emerged from the opposite direction. The moonlight caught a flash of pale skin before it disappeared behind a tree. In another direction, armor glimmered. They were surrounded.

Claude chose this moment to roll out of his tent. He already had his bow in hand. “Get your weapons,” he hissed.

Edelgard grabbed her axe from the tent. She was ready for this. Claude gently shook the Professor awake. Elouan groggily made a low noise and rolled over. With a frustrated scoff, Claude slapped Elouan. The man shot straight up.

“Von Riegan!” he growled. “What was that—”

Men lurked from out behind the trees. Elouan scrambled to his feet, fumbling in the darkness for his lance. He barely gripped it before a warrior lunged forward from the trees. The bandit’s blade struck the shaft of the lance, and Elouan heaved his strength into pushing the bandit off him.

Edelgard backed up against Claude and Dimitri. Elouan struggled against the one bandit, but they could more faces emerging from the dark between the trees. Elouan cursed. He glanced around like a madman, cursed again, and rushed into the darkness, _away_ from his students.

“Your highnesses!” They heard Alois call out in the distance. “Stay calm. We’ll—gah!” They heard the clamor of blades meeting blades and the hinge-like whine of armor grinding in motion. Edelgard steadied herself and waited for the first bandit to emerge.

“Well, we can’t win this one,” Claude said. “Time for a strategic retreat.”

And then Claude ran.

_Into_ the woods. 

Dimitri grabbed Edelgard’s arm. “Let’s go!” He pulled her towards Claude.

This. Was. Not. The. Plan.

In the blur of adrenaline, Edelgard’s mind could not piece together all the parts. Where did Elouan go? And where was Claude going? They were supposed to fight and fall, not to run!

She pitched into the darkness, following the sound of Claude’s footsteps and the swish of Dimitri’s cloak. A scream hurtled from the shadows, and a man rushed towards them, sword hoisted above his head.

Edelgard swung up her axe to meet the blade. Her blood sang, and her muscles burned as she felt the Crest of Flames activate within her. With a flare of brute strength, her axe cleaved into his shoulder. Bone and tendons snapped. She dislodged her weapon with a kick to the bandit’s chest.

She turned back quickly to follow Dimitri and Claude. Dimitri waited for her, and Claude was just a few steps ahead. Grasping his bow tightly, Claude spun around, searching for more faces.

“We have to get to Remire,” he said, waving them to hurry.

“Where is Professor Elouan?”

“Who cares? He’s gone,” Claude said. “This way.” He sprung through the woods lightly, like the namesake deer of his house.

A thunderous commotion rose up behind them. “Find the brats,” cried out a voice that Edelgard recognized as Kostas.

“They’re following us,” Dimitri said.

“Shit, I thought they’d give up,” Claude panted.

“Look, there’s Remire!” Dimitri said, pointing to a few still glimmering lights between the trees.

They emerged at the fringes of the village, calling out for help. Some men with swords—a local militia perhaps—immediately roused to their calls.

“I thought I heard something out there,” one of them murmured. “Get Jeralt now!” The man turned back to them. “Are you injured?” They shook their heads, too out of breath to respond properly. Edelgard suddenly felt nervous. If she had stayed in the woods, the bandits would have overwhelmed her, but she needed Dimitri and Claude alone out there. With these soldiers, they would never fall so easily. 

But the bandits would likely enclose on the village, and perhaps her plan had not failed yet. The idea of involving innocent villagers made Edelgard’s gorge rise. Perhaps Hubert was right. Perhaps this plan was destined to fail.

“What happened?” barked a low voice. A man emerged from one of the house. He was followed by a young woman. Both had already drawn their swords. _Mercenaries_. Just her luck. What they were doing in this village?

Dimitri stepped forward. “Please forgive our intrusion. We wouldn’t bother you were the situation not dire.”

“What do a bunch of kids like you want at this hour?”

“We’re being pursued by a group of bandits,” Dimitri said. “I can only hope that you will be so kind as to lend your support.”

The man frowned. “Bandits? Here?”

Edelgard swallowed hard. “It's true. They attacked us while we were at rest in our camp.”

“We’ve been separated from our companions, and we’re outnumbered,” Claude said.

The mercenary nodded. “I’m impressed you’re staying so calm considering the situation. I… Wait. That uniform…” He must have recognized the distinctive black outfit.

One of the mercenaries joined his side. “Jeralt, bandits have been spotted just outside the village. Damn… There are a lot of them.”

“I guess they followed you all the way here,” Jeralt said. “We can’t abandon this village now. Come on, Byleth, let’s move. Hope you’re ready.”

_Byleth_. Something about the young woman made the crest shudder in Edelgard’s blood.

Jeralt shouted to his mercenaries to meet the bandits on the perimeter of the town. Byleth gestured for the young lords to follow her, and they gathered out near a farmhouse.

“We’ll take the enemies down in front first,” Byleth said. She did not make eye contact with any of them. Instead, her full focus honed on the battlefield before her. “We can hide in the trees there.”

“Thank you,” Dimitri said with a bow. “We are in your debt. It would not do to have us fall here.”

“You’re not out of trouble yet,” Byleth said sternly. At once, she seemed to be their age, and yet, Edelgard couldn’t help but feel she was so much older. The way she talked, the way her eyes scanned the battlefield, the blank expression on her face: an old soul inhabited that young form.

The bandits fanned out, wielding short blades and daggers. Byleth unsheathed her sword. “Are you ready?”

She did not wait for an answer before she charged.

Byleth ducked out of the way of the first thief and pierced her blade into his belly.

With that introduction, Claude quickly notched his bow and let the arrows fly.

Edelgard gripped her axe and moved into position beside Byleth. Her heels dug into a defensive pose as her axe curved forward. The thief dodged the blow. He flipped a small throwing knife towards her. The blade scratched her cheek but fell otherwise harmlessly away. Without missing a beat, Edelgard swung again and struck his arm.

The bandit screamed. With his uninjured arm, he unhooked another knife from his belt and thrust it ineffectually forward. Edelgard’s next strike went for his head. She forced herself not to look at the resulting carnage.

“Here, in the trees!” Byleth shouted, and they gathered around her, as the next wave of bandits approached. A few arrows rained near them, but the trees protected them from the bandit’s clumsy aim. Edelgard wished she had found more skilled warriors than these pathetic fighters, but perhaps that inadequacy would save her life this time.

Claude stepped out briefly to unleash another arrow. One bandit sidestepped the arrows and slid between the trees. Dimitri swung out from behind the tree and impaled the thief on his lance.

Byleth pointed. “Look. That seems to be their leader.” Edelgard saw Kostas approaching, flanked on both sides with muscular brawlers flexing their arms. “You, archer—” She didn’t need to say anything else. One of Claude’s arrows dug itself into the tender flesh at the neck of one of the brawlers.

The other brawler narrowed in on Edelgard. Kostas’s eyes widened slightly when he saw her. He held up a hand to the brawler and pointed towards her. Edelgard flinched. _Did he somehow recognize her? No, no, the armor of the Flame Emperor would have prevented that._

Edelgard readied her stance. Both hands tightened around her axe as the brawler raged towards her. She lurched towards him, the axe arcing through the air—the brawler caught the axe in his clawed gauntlets. He wrenched his arms up. With all the right leverage, the axe twisted out of Edelgard’s hands and soared away.

“You’re coming with me,” the brawler growled. His arms reached for her, but not before the point of Dimitri’s lance pierced his ribs. The brawler roared and stumbled backwards. Momentarily forgetting Edelgard, he swiveled towards Dimitri and clobbered his gauntlets towards him.

Edelgard sought out her axe. The weapon had sunk into the mud not far from Kostas. If she were quick, she could reach it—

But Kostas had her in line of sight. “This is too much trouble even for the extra cash,” he said before he barreled towards her. With no weapon, Edelgard tried to run, but her feet had caught in the slick mud. She stumbled back against a tree. “Who cares. You’ll die!” he screeched.

Her hand reached into her pocket, where she felt Hubert’s poison lie. Sliding out her dagger, she prepared to slick the blade with the poison, but she could not move fast enough.

A shadow covered her. Byleth flew before her and pushed her away. Edelgard screamed as Kostas’s axe cut through Byleth, blood splashing on Edelgard’s face—

_Wait, no. That wasn’t what happened._

Drunk off the adrenaline, Edelgard slipped down the trunk of the tree. She felt dizzy and confused. Unharmed, Byleth turned on Kostas and successfully disarmed him with a cut on the arm. Kostas reared backwards.

“Kostas!” A bandit screamed. “The Knights of Seiros are approaching!”

“Shit!” Kostas growled. “Retreat!”

The bandits began to scatter. Jeralt gave chase on his horse, but Edelgard saw Kostas slip off into the night. Anger flooded her veins. _How dare he. He still had a job to perform._

That would be a loose end for another time.

For now, Edelgard had to contend with the vision of Byleth’s death dancing before her eyes and the soft scream of the crest within her blood.


	6. Poison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the failure at Remire, Hubert takes care of Professor Elouan. Anything to give Edelgard the rest and peace of mind that she deserves.

Excitement broiled in the Reception Hall. Hubert made his way there as soon as he heard that the house leaders ( _plural_ ) had returned from their mission in Remire. The mood was generally convivial—no mourning, no screams of anguish, no disgruntled murmurs of revenge. That alone was enough to tell Hubert that the plan had failed.

Claude and Dimitri were alive. Hubert steeled his expression. At least Edelgard was safe. Scanning the group, he noticed that Professor Elouan was missing, but new faces had joined the group: a grizzled older man with scars cut across his face and a much younger woman with a blank expression. Hubert frowned. So they had lost one threat and dragged back two others.

Edelgard caught his gaze across the hall. Although she wore a smile, her eyes spoke daggers. Claude and Dimitri prattled on to the strange new woman, but Hubert could tell from the way she swayed and clenched her jaw that all was not well. With a secretive flip of her hand, she bid him to approach.

“Milady, you have returned.” He bowed. “How was your journey?”

“Exciting,” Edelgard said calmly.

“Sheesh, Hubert, give a lady some space,” Claude said. Hubert did not mind Claude’s reproach. Edelgard wished to escape the droll conversation of the lords, and Hubert could provide her an easy exit without her transgressing into some social faux pas. 

“Please excuse me. I think I shall rest for a while,” Edelgard said. “Our journey has greatly fatigued me. Hubert, would you take my belongings?” 

At this time on a Friday afternoon, the hallways of the second floor had cleared out, yet Edelgard slowed as she approached her room’s door. They could hear laughter exploding from behind Hilda’s door. Edelgard skipped over her room and let herself into Hubert’s instead. Hubert sensed that she required strict confidentiality.

Upon entering the room, Edelgard began pacing back and forth on the floor. She wrung her hands before releasing a frustrated groan and falling onto his bed.

Hubert kneeled before her, accepting such proximity only so that they could speak in total privacy. “I take it that the plan did not succeed.” 

“Total, utter failure.” Her voice hovered above a whisper, as if there were ears pressed to every wall. Even if Caspar were in his room—and judging by the lack of commotion, he was elsewhere—, Hubert doubted that he would eavesdrop. Edelgard quietly explained the events of the previous night. She ended: “You were correct. My plan was flawed.” 

“The plan succeeded in its primary objective,” Hubert said. “Professor Elouan has been disposed of, and should he reappear, there is no doubt that this exercise has shamed him. As far as our other goals, there will be other opportunities.”

“Those mercenaries, you saw them right? I have a bad feeling,” Edelgard said. “One of them is Jeralt, the famed former captain of the Knights of Seiros. And his daughter is quite powerful. Alois was going to take them up to meet Lady Rhea.”

“To what ends do you suppose this meeting will bring?”

“No doubt it is to ensnare them into Rhea’s fold,” Edelgard said. “Another weapon for her collection. Byleth is extremely powerful. If only we could convince her to join us. You should have seen her fight, Hubert.” She swallowed hard. “Dimitri and Claude have their eye on her too.”

“I don’t understand. You fight one battle beside her, and suddenly everyone wants their hands on her.” Edelgard nodded. “She must be quite adept.”

“There was something strange about that fight,” Edelgard said. “I cannot put my thumb on it, but I worry that Byleth holds some strange power.”

“That would be very alarming indeed,” Hubert said. “Let us not worry about what we cannot control. We have barely begun down this path. We cannot consider this a setback. Indeed, milady, there are ways to spin this to our favor.”

Edelgard nodded. “How so?”

“Well, Captain Jeralt left the Knights and disappeared, didn’t he? That’s not exactly the sign of a devoted servant of the Goddess. Furthermore, we are still out a professor. Jeritza is the natural replacement for Elouan. Once he is in position as head of the Blue Lions, Dimitri will be easy to dispose of.”

“And Claude?”

“The Alliance is already in shambles. This mystery heir is a pathetic last-ditch effort to maintain stability, and it will fail without our intervention.”

Edelgard straightened her face. “That is a good way of thinking of it. I will not allow this setback to steer our course.”

Hubert noticed a shallow scab on Edelgard’s cheek. “Milady, you are injured.” His hand hovered over her cheek, where the bandit’s knife had grazed the skin. 

“It is just a scratch,” Edelgard mumbled, her eyes half closed. “I was very fortunate that the knife missed.”

As Hubert stood, Edelgard jolted upright, yawning and rubbing her face. Hubert opened his desk drawer to retrieve a small pot of healing unguent. Sitting beside her, he scooped out a fingerful and gently brushed it over her wound.

Edelgard leaned into his touch. Her eyes struggled to stay open.

“Lady Edelgard, did you sleep at all on this journey?”

“No,” she slurred. A slow press of warmth alerted Hubert to the sudden proximity of her body. Even as he withdrew his hand from her face, her body tilted against his shoulder. Hubert felt a sharp pang of alarm. For a moment, he wondered what to do.

“Shall we remove you to your room?” he asked.

“Hm?” she murmured, and he realized she was already gone.

His face suddenly flushed with warmth. A primal sensation awoke in his chest as her hair tickled his neck and her thigh pressed against his. There was a part of him that wanted nothing more than to root himself in that spot and remain there until she awoke.

But the rational side of his brain urged him not to take this path. _She had been so bold before,_ he recalled, and although he recalled that night with bittersweet mortification, he also remembered the consequences.

Besides, he was not his father; he could serve Edelgard without any ulterior motives. He did not need any further gratification to perform his job; nay, such a thing would only prove a distraction to them both.

Gently, Hubert eased her down until she was lying on his bed. He draped a spare blanket over her body and retreated to his desk, where he picked up a book and tried to concentrate.

* * *

Edelgard sunk into sleep like a lead weight. At first, her exhaustion wiped her mind from any dreams, but sure enough, they returned with a vigor. Stress-induced images of Claude and Dimitri and Lady Rhea battered her eyes. The image of Kostas charging her repeated, winding backwards like a toy-spring before starting again. That strange woman—Byleth—died and lived and died and lived.

Edelgard woke with a start. It took a minute for her to recognize her surroundings. A wool blanket scratched against her skin. Blue dusk flooded in the window, and the room had only the dim light of a candle on the desk. Hubert turned from his seat at the desk.

“Did you sleep well?”

Edelgard felt her cheeks color. “I apologize. I did not mean to fall asleep in your…room.” She almost said bed, but somehow that felt worse. “I inconvenienced you. You may wake me next time.” 

“You seemed as though you needed the rest,” Hubert said. “If you are hungry, they are likely still serving dinner in the dining hall.”

Edelgard shook her head. “How long did I sleep?”

“Several hours.”

Edelgard leaned back against the wall. Her legs still tangled in Hubert’s blanket. “And yet I feel as though I could sleep another day.”

“You should probably remain awake until a later hour if you hope to sleep tonight,” Hubert said.

Edelgard yawned. “You’re right, of course.” She sighed and twisted a strand of white hair. “I kept dreaming of my failure in Remire.”

“You did not fail,” Hubert said. “We simply could not account for all of the variables.”

“You’re lying to me,” Edelgard said pointedly. “You knew this plan would fail. You tried to warn me, and I did not listen. I failed not only to execute this endeavor but also my first true test as future emperor.”

“I am merely trying to raise your spirits,” Hubert said. “Believe it or not, not all of my actions are so sinister in their effect.”

Edelgard smiled. “Oh please, I think you like being the sinister one. You enjoy it when people are afraid of you.”

Hubert chuckled. “Does milady consider me frightening and sinister?”

“Let’s just say that I am thankful than I am not your enemy. Besides,” her voice deepened just a twitch, a tone Hubert recognized as mischief, “it’s hard not to remember you as that cute little banner boy at my father’s jubilee.” Hubert’s face immediately collapsed into a scowl. “With the seraph wings and that wreath of roses that your mother made for you.”

Hubert stood abruptly. “And with that, milady, I believe I have some tasks to attend to—” As Hubert tried to leave, Edelgard reached out and grabbed his wrist. 

“No, Hubert. Stay.” She tugged his wrist insistently, and to her surprise, he came down on the bed beside her. Just like that, everything between them fell away, a rare moment of unguarded proximity.

“May I request, Lady Edelgard, that you do not tease me?”

“Hubert, that is an unreasonable thing to demand of your sovereign,” Edelgard said. “It the natural born right of House Hresvelg to tease the von Vestras as much as they please.” She reached out a hand to brush aside his long bangs. It did not escape her notice how his breath hitched. “Besides, you _were_ so cute. Your hair was so short then.”

“Does milady prefer short hair?”

“I prefer whatever makes you more comfortable,” Edelgard said, knowing that whatever answer she gave, he would follow down to the letter. His gaze fixed on her intensely. She yearned to know what he was thinking such moments, when the silence enclosed upon them and only his eyes seemed to speak.

Suddenly, he coughed loudly and stood up from the bed, disengaging Edelgard’s hands from his hair.

“Allow me to bring you some dinner,” he said. “You may rest here, but I should really leave before dinner adjourns for the evening.” He bowed and ducked out of the room before she could order him otherwise.

* * *

Pheasant, again. _Well, the Alliance students will certainly be pleased_ , Hubert thought. The scent of the meal did little to stir his appetite. Edelgard would likely only pick at it. To improve her mood, he sought out anything sweet, but the other students had already devastated the dessert table.

Few remained in the hall so late. The monks and nuns usually took their meals early, and most of the students were congregating near the market for whatever filthy pub crawl Sylvain had tossed together this week. The guards had recently changed shifts, however, and the ones just released from duty crowded a single table.

“You hear that Professor Elouan has returned?” one of them said. Hubert dawdled, as though searching the empty dessert table for a hidden sweet roll.

“I thought he was killed,” said another.

“No, no, Lieutenant Nico saw him on the road this morning,” said the first. “Apparently he was pretty bruised up. Said he wanted to return to the monastery to report something suspicious about the bandits, but he refused to allow Nico to accompany him back.” 

“Why not?”

“Because he was probably going to hit up that tavern near Traftan’s Hook.” The guards burst out laughing. Professor Elouan _did_ have a reputation. “What a disgrace.”

Hubert took his time in selecting silverware. Elouan was still alive? What suspicions did he have to report? 

“I bet he’s just trying to cover his ass,” a third guard interjected. “That dastard has always been a coward. I wouldn’t be surprised if he ran off and is too ashamed to show his face here.”

“He’s probably hit the bottle too hard again,” said the second. “Nico says this incident will put him on probation for certain this time.”

The conversation shifted elsewhere. Hubert ducked out of the dining hall with the tray of food for Edelgard.

Returning to his room, he found Edelgard already passed out again on his bed. Hubert gently set the tray down on his desk and watched her as she clung to his pillow in deep repose. 

_This is only the beginning,_ he thought to himself. It tortured him to consider how heavy this burden weighed on her. She had suffered so much already. He would not allow Elouan to cause her any further anxiety.

Cautiously, he slid open his desk drawer so that it would not squeak. A few loose quills and blotting sheets disguised the false floor of the drawer, which concealed the tools of his trade. Popping out the panel, he selected a vial from the collection of poisons, before gently replacing the floor. 

He needed to change out of his school uniform, but with Edelgard sleeping nearby, the idea made him uncomfortable. Instead, he exchanged his school jacket for a traveling cloak. It would do. 

Slipping out of the room, Hubert schemed his own plan.

* * *

The rocky beak of Traftan’s Hook protruded over a clutter of thatched shacks and a muddy plot of road. The village’s only claim to fortune was that it was just far enough away from Garreg Mach to escape the scrutiny of the church, and so all manner of vice and sin transpired there. Had not Sylvain operated his weekly pub crawl with the sort of zest that most students applied to studying, Hubert would have expected to see him lingering amongst the profligates. As it were, Hubert did not recognize any faces as he entered the tavern.

Except, of course, for Elouan.

Rather, Hubert recognized the snarl of blue hair and blood-stained uniform slumped over the bar. Hubert ordered a flagon of ale that he did not drink, instead dwelling by the door of the tavern. He watched Elouan from the corner of his eye. Elouan spent much of the night yelling at the barmaids and arguing with a man who kept beating him at dice.

“I got to piss like a horse,” he grumbled to no one in particular before slogging towards the door. Hubert turned away to hide his face until Elouan passed. When Elouan exited the bar, Hubert waited a few minutes before following. He made sure to bring his still full flagon with him. When he stepped outside, he fished out the vial of poison and emptied it into the ale.

Elouan was relieving himself on the side of the building.

“Professor,” Hubert said.

Elouan staggered backwards, his head whipping towards Hubert. “You…I know you?” He grasped at his trousers to sloppily rebutton them.

“Lady Rhea has sent me to accompany you back to the monastery,” Hubert said.

“Ah, not yet, no,” Elouan slurred. “Look, boy, the things I saw out there… I get one night—ooone!—before I have to deal with this whole damn mess.” 

Hubert caught Elouan as he almost toppled over. He reeked of alcohol, smoke, and the rancid tang of sweat. Hubert curled his lips back in disgust.

“Lady Rhea is very interested in your report,” Hubert said. “If you could tell me what you found out—”

“What? So you can take my glory like fucking Nico? That dastard has had it out for me since day one.” He laughed, and a burp bubbled up instead. Fortunately, for Hubert, Elouan had little experience guarding secrets. “No, no, I tell Rhea that the bandits were hired to assassinate the ickle lordlings, and then I get my fucking pay raise, and that asshole Jertiza won’t get my job. You know, he’s been after my job?”

Hubert had previously surmised that Elouan had discovered the bandit’s contract, but the fact that he also suspected Jeritza made Hubert realize that Elouan was more dangerous than anticipated.

Not that it really mattered. The result would be the same regardless.

“Hey, are you going to drink that?” Elouan asked. Hubert shook his head and offered the poisoned flagon to him. Elouan chugged deeply. Ale ran down the sides of his face. 

Hubert roped an arm around Elouan to support him and guided him away from the tavern. Elouan was too far gone to understand what was happening. He kept babbling as they walked into the dark woods. As he drank more of the ale, his words garbled more and more, and spittle spewed from his lips, until finally he said no more and his body became a heavy weight against Hubert’s side.

Hubert positioned the body against a tree so that it just looked like he fell asleep. He emptied the poisoned ale in the grass before curling Elouan’s limp fingers around the handle. If someone found the body, they might suspect that he had drunk himself to death.

Elouan’s breath shallowed and slowed. Hubert held a small mirror to his nose, waiting until the fog faded from the mirror’s surface and Elouan ceased breathing entirely.

It was done. There would be no more of this problem.

Hubert warped back to Garreg Mach. The monastery was still and silent in the night. No one bothered him as he marched back towards his room. Even if they had, they would never have suspected him of assassinating their professor.

Edelgard still sprawled in his bed. He had forgotten she would be there. As the door clicked close, she propped herself up and rubbed her eyes.

“Hubert, is that you?” she asked groggily.

“Yes, milady. I apologize for disturbing you. Would you like to return to your bed now?”

“I fell asleep again.” She sounded as though she were still half-asleep. “You should have woken me.”

“Here, milady, I can take you back.” He slipped his arms under her body and heaved her up into his arms. She nestled her head against his chest. Her body felt small in his grasp, and her hand on his neck sparked a flush of heat against his skin. This felt dangerously familiar. Hubert fought hard to push back old feelings.

He managed to get her back into her room without much fuss or attention.

“You smell awful,” she murmured, as he rolled her down onto her bed. “Don’t tell me you went to Sylvain’s pub crawl.”

“I thought you wished for me to socialize more.” 

“Wait, that was a joke. You didn’t really go, did you?”

Hubert chuckled. “I merely took care of some business tonight.”

“What business?” She pushed herself up in bed. White hair fell like a lattice across her face. Hubert took the liberty of brushing it back from her forehead, fingers featherlight against her skin.

“You need not worry, milady. All is well.”

* * *

Rumors ran wild about Elouan, but soon, he was forgotten.

After all, a new professor had been found.

Byleth, the strange mercenary woman, was to join the faculty. As the head of the _Golden Deer_ house. 

Not Jeritza. Not the Blue Lions.

Edelgard quietly stewed as her plans once again collapsed all around her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What, did you think I was going to make this easy for them? ;) 
> 
> This is as good a time as any to state that this story will follow a rough outline of Verdant Wind, while combining a few elements from other routes and occasionally making minor divergences from canon. In short, I'm a lore junkie, and I really want to get into Edelgard's complicated relationship with Those Who Slither in the Dark. 
> 
> Thanks for the Kudos/Comments! I really love and appreciate hearing from you all!


	7. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth presents a problem. Edelgard suspects that Arundel is watching her, and the Black Eagles get a new mission. Amidst her growing burdens, Hubert tries to comfort Edelgard.

Byleth was going to be a problem.

Somehow, after just one week as the new professor of the Golden Deer house, she had managed to already lead them into an unexpected victory at the mock battle. The humiliation of being cut down by Claude’s blunted arrow had seared Edelgard for the last fortnight.

Furthermore, the Golden Deer had been awarded the task to kill the bandits that attacked the house leaders, and Edelgard had to assume the role of Flame Emperor once again to threaten Kostas into submission. She should have killed him. Hubert certainly offered several times, and it took everything Edelgard had to make sure that he didn’t. After all, if they assassinated the bandit leader, it might cause even more suspicion from the Church.

So to help her house rise to glory, the Black Eagles study group became a mandatory exercise.

So far, they had some success. Bernadetta had attended for the last two weeks—no doubt because she was terrified of Edelgard, but at least it was a step in the right direction. Furthermore, Caspar had somehow passed his first certification exam by writing a surprisingly cogent essay comparing the use of gauntlets to axes in close-range combat.

There were still a few areas to be improved, however.

“Hubert, will you please find Linhardt and tell him to join us,” Edelgard asked. Hubert nodded and left.

“I don’t get the point of all this studying anyways,” Caspar said. “Aren’t we here to learn how to fight?”

“There is more to battle than just physical prowess,” Ferdinand said. “Strategy, history, diplomacy, logistics: they are all equally important to the success of an army.”

“You can learn all that through sparring!” Caspar said. “Diplomacy is just fighting with words anyways.”

“You can learn history through sparring?” Dorothea asked.

“Well, no, but the other stuff—”

“Do you even know what logistics means?” Ferdinand asked.

“Gah, stop ganging up on me!” Caspar said.

“Ooh!” Petra raised her hand. “It is the moving of people and goods for battle!”

Fine, maybe there were several areas that needed improvement.

* * *

Hubert rarely liked to admit failure in the missions that Edelgard gave him, but convincing Linhardt to attend study group proved to be a futile endeavor. Hubert found Linhardt in the library muttering fervently about helixes and glyphs, and by the end of the conversation, Linhardt had been so unmoved by Hubert’s demands to return to the study group that he started to yawn and pretend to slip off into sleep.

As Hubert exited the library, he caught Linhardt sitting upright again, this time scribbling something madly on a sheet of paper.

Hubert walked through the second-floor corridor. The Professor’s offices stood empty. He could hear voices emerging from Rhea’s closed door at the end of the hallway.

Seteth’s voice carried easily through the walls. “Recent intel about the Western church” was all Hubert caught, but it was enough to pique his interest.

Hubert wandered up to one of the guards blocking the doorway.

“I was hoping to speak to Professor Manuela. Is she in with the Archbishop?” he asked.

The guard nodded. “They’ve been in there a while, but if you would like to wait, you can take a seat there.” The guard gestured to one of the benches lining the wall.

Hubert thanked him and took a seat. He thumbed through the pages of a pocket reason manual, as though he were studying. Of course, his ears tuned into the muffled conversation behind Rhea’s door.

Only excerpts of information floated through the wall.

Seteth’s voice echoed with alarm. “The Western Church still… to schism, it could cause great instability in the—” The next part was unintelligible.

Rhea spoke more softly than Seteth. “—soldiers appearing in Gaspard—”

He heard Hanneman’s voice next. “If the Church learned anything from the insurrection of the Southern church a century ago-“ 

The next several lines devolved into muffled sounds. Suddenly, he heard footsteps and Alois exclaim, “Very well. I will recall Catherine and Gilbert from Fhirdiad immediately.”

Hubert looked up as the door opened, and the Professors trailed out. Manuela saw Hubert and sighed.

“I suppose you’re here for me, Hubert,” she said, clearly annoyed. She waved her hand for him to follow her back into the infirmary. “You know, Linhardt is supposed to be quite skilled with healing. You don’t have to come to me every time Caspar breaks a finger.”

“Linhardt refuses to study with the other students,” Hubert said. “As head of our house, perhaps you could talk to him.”

“Perhaps I ought to start teaching you more of the healing arts,” Manuela said. “Would be good to diversify your range.”

“If you think it suitable, I cannot object.”

“So what are you really here for then?”

Hubert had to think quickly. “I wished to ask a question regarding accommodations for our mission at the end of the month. Lady Edelgard—”

“Our mission has changed,” Manuela said quickly. _A surprise indeed,_ Hubert thought. “You may as well know. We will be going to the Kingdom to investigate a missing person’s case.”

“May I ask who has gone missing?”

“A minor lord of House Gideon,” Manuela said.

“And why are we sent to deal with this issue and not the Blue Lions?”

Manuela shrugged. “Lady Cornelia apparently requested it. She believes that some of the nobles in that house may be too close to the victims. Apparently one of Ingrid’s brothers married a girl out of House Gideon.”

_Cornelia._ Hubert swallowed back a swell of discust.

“Very well. May I inform her highness of the change?” 

“Yes, I will announce it in lecture tomorrow,” Manuela said. “We’ll be leaving for Fhirdiad in a week.” According to what Hubert had just heard, Fhirdiad was where Catherine and Gilbert currently were stationed. Hubert wondered if they were the ones investigating the disappearance. If so…Hubert could only wonder about Cornelia’s intentions.

* * *

A letter came the next day with Arundel’s seal.

Hubert found Edelgard pacing in her room as she read it. “He writes that he heard— _already_ —of our imminent departure to the Kingdom and that he wishes that I treat Cornelia with due respect, as an old friend of his and my mother’s.” Her glare was strong enough to melt glass. “He asks that I follow her instructions precisely and that I, quote, ‘remember the debt I owe her for her kind and generous treatment of our family during a difficult time.’” She tossed her hair back. “I’d rather be going to Zanado. If only Professor Byleth had chosen our house. I’m certain that’s why they were chosen for that mission.”

Hubert leaned on her desk and crossed his arms. “This lord who disappeared—”

“They’re inserting another one of their kind into the Kingdom court,” Edelgard said. “Strengthening their position there to make the transition smoother once Arundel—no, once _we_ make our next move.”

“And they want us to go to make sure that the Church does not interfere with their plans,” Hubert said. “I almost wonder if this rebellion in the west is timed to bring the Church’s agents back from Fhirdiad.”

“It’s odd, is it not?” Edelgard asked.

“I consider this to be within the norm for—”

“No, how quickly it all moved,” she said. “Obviously my uncle knew of these plans beforehand, but how did his message get to us so quickly? How did he know that the church fell for the plot?” She wrung the letter in her hands. “I have a feeling…he said something about his eyes within the church…You know, Those Who Slither in the Dark have ways of communicating quickly and—”

Hubert hummed. “Do you think he has an informant already positioned in Garreg Mach?”

“Oh, I am certain he has plenty but this…” Edelgard said. “Whoever it is, they’re probably keeping an eye on me, making sure that I fall into line.” She shivered. “This whole time, someone watching us—”

Hubert watched Edelgard struggle to maintain a façade of strength. Stress, anxiety, and frustration were beginning to wear her down. _Stay strong,_ Hubert wanted to tell her, but the sentiment would do little to relieve her of her numerous burdens.

She needed comfort, he realized, and he was a poor candidate to provide it. Especially considering their history. He determined that a platonic gesture would be acceptable and settled on placing a hand on her shoulder. Immediately, it felt _awkward_ , especially as her eyes flew up to his, waiting for him to say anything. And Hubert realized that he was not well-versed in terms of comfort.

“It will be…fine,” he said. He wasn’t sure if he believed it, and judging by Edelgard’s sudden skeptical expression, neither did she.

“Fine?”

“What I mean is, if there is a spy, well, you have done nothing but surpass their expectations,” Hubert said. “Your Uncle needs you to succeed. There is no reason for him to sabotage you.”

His hand still sat on her shoulder like a heavy weight. Edelgard stood watching him, eyes filled with expectation. She was waiting for him to make the next move.

Hubert pulled his hand—entirely too quickly to be natural—from her shoulder. 

“Thank you, Hubert,” she said. Her voice still rattled with tension. “I always appreciate your confidence in me.”

* * *

_If she hid there long enough, they wouldn’t find her._

_Edelgard curled up beneath her gowns and coats in the wardrobe. All was dark, and she sat alone amongst the finery. She could hear time tick by from her mantel clock. Footsteps raced up and down the wall; sounds reverberated through the floor._

_Edelgard’s memories replayed in broken detail. Gerlinde disappeared into the cellar. Dagmar clung to the curtains as they ripped her out of her room. Thorsten, they said, went to an academy in Hevring territory, but no one would let her write. Tall locked doors and frowning guards blocked her father’s chambers._

_Edelgard was next. Arundel would come for her, and he would take her away. The nurses had told her as much. And if he didn’t take her, von Aegir would._

_If she hid there long enough, they wouldn’t find her._

_Specters crowded in on her. Hands reached through the crack in the wardrobe’s doors. They pulled her hair and pinched her arms. A million voices called out for her._

_She had to hide. Find the darkness and steal away. If she hid there long enough—_

A knock at the door roused Edelgard. She bolted upwards in bed, disoriented and groggy. It took her a minute to realize where the sound came from. Her throat felt raw, and her sheets had dampened from the sweat.

There was another knock. She scrambled for her robe before answering the door.

She thought it might be Hubert, or perhaps Hilda even, to tell her to shut up. She did not expect Byleth.

“Professor! What are you doing here?”

Byleth’s vacant eyes filled the gloom. “I heard screaming.”

Edelgard reeled in panic. She must have been making noise in her sleep again. “Please do not concern yourself. It was only a nightmare.” Byleth said nothing. She stared at Edelgard, a smudge of confusion on her brow. “Really, I've had them since I was a child. Stupid, pointless dreams I can't control... It's terribly frustrating.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Byleth asked.

Edelgard shook her head. “I have medicine that I can take—”

“Are you sure? You want to talk about it?” Byleth asked.

“They’re pointless dreams about the past.”

“Like what?”

That strange aura that Edelgard had sensed before returned. There was something about Byleth that felt familiar, and it scared Edelgard to consider it. Perhaps, however, there was still time to persuade her to serve the Empire. After all, did a woman of Byleth’s talents really want to waste her life within the church?

Edelgard stood aside to let Byleth into the room. How could Edelgard describe the things she dreamt about? She doubted that Byleth wanted to hear about Roald wasting away, too paralyzed too move, or Gerlinde’s screams for help, or the traumatizing babble of little Emmeline, as the masked mages experimented on the baby without hesitation. 

So she kept it simple. “I see my family dying slowly, waiting in the darkest depths for a glimmer of light. I once had ten siblings. Such a large family, and yet I became the heir to the throne. Do you know why? Every last one of them was crippled by disease or lost their mind or died. I was the only one left who could inherit the throne.”

“That’s awful,” Byleth said.

“In the end, I was the only one who survived. The nightmares are a reminder...to never forget. To never allow such terrible things to happen again.”

“And how will you stop it?” 

Edelgard hadn’t expected that question. “When I become Emperor, I will make sure that those who abuse their powers will never have the opportunity to hurt people.”

“But how? How do you stop people from hurting others, without causing hurt yourself?” Byleth said.

Edelgard felt a strong pang of alarm, and her defenses sprung up around her. Was Byleth criticizing her or genuinely asking? It was difficult for Edelgard to read the blank expression on Byleth’s face.

“There is no path free from harm,” Edelgard said. “All we can do is minimize it. You were a mercenary. You should understand that.”

“Indeed” was all Byleth said. The single word response rattled Edelgard. What did that mean? Was she agreeing or did she want to restrain her criticisms out of politeness?

They sat in awkward silence.

“Professor Byleth, if I may ask, why did you choose the Golden Deer house?”

“I wanted to see where it would lead me,” she said. Edelgard frowned. That was a cryptic answer, one that unsettled Edelgard deep in her bones. “I needed to make a choice, so I made one.” She shrugged. “Nothing personal.”

“How easy it must be for you to just make those types of decisions,” Edelgard said. “I admire it, in fact. I’m not sure that I could decide so simply.”

Byleth stood suddenly. “I should go,” she said.

“Thank you for checking on me,” Edelgard said. Byleth nodded and then left without further ceremony.

Edelgard lay in her bed for an hour, listening to Byleth’s footsteps peter up and down the halls as she finished her nighttime amble. Edelgard thrashed in her bedsheets, before pacing for thirty minutes in her room. The way that her mind buzzed and flickered, it was as if coffee ran through her veins instead of blood. What did Byleth mean by any of that? Had she made a mistake opening up to the mysterious Professor? What if Byleth told the other professors or, worse, Claude?

Gentle fingers rapped at her door. Edelgard sucked in a breath. She almost didn’t open it this time, but she was glad she did. Hubert stood on the other side. Without saying anything, he slipped into her room.

“What are you doing here?” Edelgard whispered. “You could get in trouble.”

“I could hear you pacing,” he said. “Was that Professor Byleth at your door?”

Edelgard nodded and shared with him their strange conversation. “What am I supposed to make of that? I suppose it is my fault for asking why she didn’t choose the Black Eagles. She probably thinks I’m bitter.”

“I am not sure I trust Professor Byleth,” Hubert said. “In fact, it makes sense that she would choose Claude’s house. Like him, she seems to struggle with being upfront or truthful. She claims not to know her own age or where she came from? Hardly credible.”

Did Edelgard trust her? Certainly not, since she chose to teach a different house. What Edelgard felt was more akin to curiosity, but since Byleth still presented an unknown variable in her plans, she would have to approach cautiously.

“I cannot believe I told her all of that about my family,” Edelgard said. Mortification began to creep in. “The first person I’ve ever told, and I get _that_ reaction.”

“If it makes you feel better, she’s not exactly the first person you told,” Hubert said.

“You’re different,” Edelgard said. “You’re from my past. You’re the only thing I have left from my past.” Her voice broke, and she inhaled deeply to calm the sudden surge of emotion.

Even Hubert was different, a part of him gone. When she cried as a child, he would hug her and brush away her tears. They took even that away from her. There were no awkward shoulder touches or abrupt exits back then. Never had she felt so isolated. The distance between them haunted her.

Sensing Edelgard’s spiral, Hubert became proactive. He steered Edelgard back to her and eased her down in it. He propped up her pillows and pulled up the blankets, as Edelgard rubbed her eyes. 

“You must think I’m so pathetic,” Edelgard said. “Weak and foolish to allow such things to bother me.”

“I could never think such a thing of you. Your nightmares are very difficult on you, I understand that. Perhaps Professor Byleth does not.”

“I do not think she meant anything offensive,” Edelgard said. “There’s something strange about her.”

“Perhaps she merely entered at a vulnerable moment.” He perched on the side of her bed. “What can I do to comfort you?”

“You need not worry yourself,” Edelgard said. “You should return to bed and—”

“I cannot sleep knowing that you are upset,” Hubert said. “I understand that I am not good at such things, but if you tell me what you need, I will make sure to provide whatever support will help.”

She _missed_ him, she realized. The old him. The him that existed when they were children and young teenagers. The him that had been stolen away from her because of a silly indiscretion. And it wasn’t like he was gone either. He was right there, in front of her, the whole time: boxed away under the façade of a platonic servant. Somewhere, under all of that, was her Hubert—the sweet if somewhat awkward and shy boy of her childhood.

Edelgard reached forward and gave what she intended to be a quick hug. His body went rigid, and she felt instant regret. She should have asked first. This was crossing a boundary, one that likely brought back bitter memories for him. He probably blamed her rash actions for that night. How he ever came to serve her again—

She was about to pull away when his arms encircled her. He pinned her close to her body. Her head pressed against his chest, hearing the brisk pulse of his heart.

The embrace lasted longer than a hug should, but Edelgard found it difficult to pull away. Hubert’s muscles eventually relaxed, although at first he did not move at all. Finally, his hand loosely brushed away the hair from her face. His hand remained in her hair; his fingers combed through her hair.

Despite his hesitation, it felt familiar in a way that Edelgard hadn’t felt in years. A comforting nostalgia filled her, and it made her want to bury herself in his arms deeper. The methodical brush of his hands in her hair soothed her. Her pulse had quickened, but her mind had quieted. She felt safe there, lying against him, guarded by his arms.

The warmth and quiet lulled her into a sense of security. She could forget her anxieties about Byleth or even the prying eyes of her Uncle’s spy. She shifted her body so that she was leaning next to him, their backs both to the wall—a safe position, she thought, as though there were such a thing. To her delight, Hubert did not try to leave or move.

Leaning her head against his shoulder, Edelgard fell asleep.


	8. Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Black Eagles go on their first real mission in Fhirdiad. Yet Edelgard quickly realizes that they were brought there for a much different purpose.

If in Edelgard’s dark needy hours she had retained any sense of rationality or foresight, she might have been able to predict how utterly awkward things would become between her and Hubert.

Cuddling to Edelgard always seemed a youthful and sweet activity, but waking up together the next morning erased any lingering idea that this situation resembled anything innocent. At some point, her arm had come to rest on his thigh and his had curled around her waist. When she had first opened her eyes, she had savored the solid warmth of his body. Despite the crick in her neck and the sleepy weight of her limbs, all she could think about was how _well_ she slept.

This was soon followed by other thoughts. Thoughts about his arm around her hips or how his height allowed her to tuck herself under his chin. Thoughts about the bed they shared and his hands in her hair.

Thoughts about how they would have to eventually talk about this.

And just like that the illusion was dispelled. Anxieties began to pile. Hubert’s presence in her room would invite rumors, and now that she suspected there was a spy in their midst, she couldn’t risk Arundel discovering their folly.

Not to mention, this was risky territory they tread upon. Edelgard began to remember what made their youthful liaisons so dangerous in the first place. And that was without the years of repressed interaction enforced between them. Hubert had been so stiff when she first touched him; what if this wasn’t what he had wanted? What if it was just like that kiss all those years ago, something that she pressed onto him? Had she mistaken devotion for something else?

And for that matter, what was that “something else” she was feeling?

Fortunately, Edelgard didn’t have to worry about talking about it, because Hubert handled the situation as he handled most: silently and evasively. Upon waking, he quickly extricated himself from her arms. With a stiff bow and downcast eyes, he dismissed himself. In the days since, he had dawdled on the tasks she had given him, to the point where she had barely seen him. Meals passed with his same dry humor and disaffected air, but he avoided looking at her. Sentences were left uncompleted, and conversations were minimized.

Edelgard, for her part, tried not to push it.

But that didn’t stop the thoughts from creeping back in. Thoughts that made heat pool in her belly. Thoughts that made her blush at random times in the day. Thoughts that—

“Edelgard, mind the road!”

Her horse reared back as she almost walked it into a log that had fallen into the road. Ferdinand and Hubert had already walked their horses around the obstruction. Edelgard pinked slightly at her mistake.

“Really, Edelgard, you ought to pay better heed when you are riding,” Ferdinand said. “Your horse cannot do all of the work for you. You must remain alert and aware at all times.”

“I understand how to ride a horse, Ferdinand,” Edelgard said, unable to restrain the annoyance in her voice.

“I don’t,” Dorothea said, struggling with the reins behind Edelgard.

“This is so dull,” Linhardt said. “Why couldn’t we just take a carriage? At least then I could read or nap.”

“Long road journeys are part of the life of a knight,” Manuela said. “Or something like that.” For the last hour, she had been sneaking sips from the flask at her waist, and now she was transitioning into flagrantly chugging it.

“Well, let’s liven things up!” Ferdinand said boldly. “Edelgard, I shall challenge you to a race. First one to that signpost wins.”

“No thank you,” Edelgard said. Her mood had soured since the near-accident, and dreamy visions still distracted her.

“I will do the racing!” Petra declared.

“Me too!” Caspar said.

“Professor, will you officiate?” Ferdinand asked. Manuela acquiesced by raising her flask. She counted down and cried out “go!” with a dramatic swig of her drink. 

Their horses bolted forward.

Preferring speed to endurance, Caspar shot off right away in a blur. Petra edged close behind him. Ferdinand strategically lagged at the rear. Caspar made it halfway before his horse skidded to a stop in front of a hole in the road. He slipped off the saddle and tumbled to ground. Spooked, Petra’s horse reared backwards with a shrill whinny. Ferdinand urged his horse off the road and made a wide arc to avoid them, pulling easily into the lead.

“Well, it’s official,” Manuela deadpanned. “I’m assigning you all to stable duty when we get back to the monastery.”

Dorothea and Linhardt groaned.

* * *

It was raining when they reached Fhirdiad. A troop of soldiers escorted them from the outer gates and herded them into a stronghold near the heart of the city. Dim stone walls enclosed them, as they waited—dripping and shivering—to learn their mission. A pleasing but intrusive thought of leaning against Hubert for warmth occurred to Edelgard, but she quickly abandoned the idea.

After half an hour, a well-dressed man entered the room. Gray streaked his brown hair. Exhaustion swelled the bags around his eyes and pulled at the lines around his lips.

“Ah, I see our students have arrived,” he said with an unconvincing smile. “Welcome to Fhirdiad. I understand this may the first visit for many of you.”

“Not me, sir,” Ferdinand said. “My name is Ferdinand von Aegir, eldest son of Prime Minister von Aegir of the Empire.”

“Er, yes, an honor to meet you,” the man said. He tipped his head towards Edelgard. “And you, of course, your highness, you are very welcome as well. We are in the Empire’s debt for your assistance in this matter.” His voice carried an uneasy lilt.

“Please, I am here as a representative of the Church,” Edelgard said, a sentence that was just as difficult for her to speak. “We are pleased to assist in any way that we can.”

“My name is Thibault Paquet, Principal Prosecutor for the city of Fhirdiad,” he said. “It is my job to investigate criminal matters and, if a crime is determined to be committed, to charge the perpetrators.”

“I thought this was a missing person’s case,” Hubert said. “Do you suspect foul play?”

“Almost certainly,” Thibault said. “Lord Herve Gideon disappeared a few weeks ago under suspicious circumstances. He was last seen running through the streets of Merchant Hill. He apparently sought help from a bystander, claiming that he had been attacked and followed, and by the time the bystander managed to alert the guards, he had disappeared entirely.”

He rolled out a map of Fhirdiad on the table and pointed to Merchant Hill, a district below the palace that edged the river.

“We do not believe that this was a random attack, as it is unlikely that a mugger would go to such lengths to pursue their target,” he explained. “We have been able to trace his evening up to the point of his attack. Gideon is Lord Exchequer for the Kingdom. We believe that he may have been lured to Merchant Hill under the pretense of business, was attacked, managed to escape, but eventually was tracked down and taken.”

“Has there been a demand for a ransom?” Edelgard asked. 

“Strangely enough, no,” Thibault rubbed his temples. “No body has been recovered either. Why he was taken remains a complete mystery. The previous emissaries of the Church, Catherine and Gilbert, managed to uncover two clues. Unfortunately, they were recalled at a critical juncture. Catherine had found a letter to Lord Gideon and believed she was close to identifying the author, but now that she’s gone, the trail has gone cold.”

Thibault reached into a velvet case and extracted a mage’s mask with a curling beak. Edelgard’s breath caught. She recognized that mask. How many times had she seen similar visors scuttling below Enbarr Palace or slipping behind slamming doors? It seemed almost unreal to examine one without its robed silhouette or ghostly hood. 

“Furthermore, we found this discarded in a gutter. Glyphs on the underside reveal this to be some sort of magical artifact,” Thibault said. “Lady Cornelia believes it may have something to do with the Western Church, but as someone raised within the Western Church, I can tell you that this is no church artifact I’ve ever seen.”

He placed the mask aside. Edelgard couldn’t help but stare at it.

“Anyways, a search of the neighborhood revealed fresh scorch marks on the brick in an alley just off Saint Macuil Boulevard, here—” he pointed, “which is where Gideon was last seen. The evidence is circumstantial, but I think we are fairly confident at this point that he was attacked by mages.”

“Do you have any suspects?” Manuela asked.

Thibault sighed. “This matter is very delicate. There is evidence that the Western Church is involved with this disappearance, but we must also remain open to other possibilities.”

“Such as what?” Edelgard asked.

“Truthfully, I am pleased that the Adrestians have come to our aid instead of our local students,” Thibault said. “What I am about to suggest may be considered indelicate, but it was my suspicion, as well as Catherine and Gilbert’s, that the Western Church was merely a scapegoat. We believe that Gideon was targeted by someone in court, likely another noble.”

Edelgard suddenly realized why Cornelia had requested the Black Eagles for this mission. Catherine and Gilbert had come too close to the truth, and she needed some way to have them recalled. Now she could use the Black Eagles to solve the matter to her own satisfaction.

“That is an extreme accusation,” Manuela said. “I suppose you have good reason for suspecting this.”

“Well, for one, there’s no reason for the Western Church to go after him. The idea that this mask proves anything is shaky at best,” Thibault said. “Meanwhile, the position of Lord Exchequer is quite coveted. In the wrong hands, it can be even lucrative. The letter Catherine found suggests that he was being blackmailed by someone who demanded him to, and I quote, ‘declare his allegiance to them or be replaced.’” He slid the file to Manuela. “It’s all in there.”

“Is that all?” Manuela asked.

“Yes, I will hand over the case files to you, Professor,” Thibault said. “Now your students appear to be catching their deaths in these wet clothes. You should rest from your journey for the evening. I understand that Lady Cornelia has made some apartments available in the Palace for your students.”

“In the Palace itself?” Manuela said with surprise. “Well isn’t that posh?”

“We are most grateful to the Church for their aid in this delicate matter,” Thibault said. “And we are most honored that the Imperial Princess is assisting as well.” He replaced the mask in its case and bid his leave.

* * *

“I cannot believe they put Petra and Dorothea in the servant’s quarters,” Edelgard said. The bedchamber reserved for her was nothing less than spectacular. Its high tiled ceilings perched on columns of smooth, polished granite. Large windows of cut glass overlooked the gardens. “Splitting up the students by rank and gender, as though we don’t spend most of our days studying and working together.”

She undressed behind a silk screen. Her damp clothing stuck so close to her skin that she had to peel it off. She threw the dirty clothes over the top of the screen. Hubert had already draped over a dry set.

“I cannot say that I am pleased being on the other side of the palace from you,” Hubert said from the other side of the screen. “Surely, the stewards would understand that I am needed by your side.”

Edelgard stepped out from behind the screen. She had twisted her hair into a bun for the journey and now worked to unloose it. The ribbon tangled in her damp locks. She managed to free it, only for her hair to fall down in knotted clumps. She spent a moment picking lost pins from her scalp.

“One of the stewards has already informed me that in Faerghus, they would never permit a man to serve a woman in so close a capacity,” Edelgard said. “They have offered me a maidservant while I am here.”

“I will not allow that,” Hubert said forcefully. He added, quickly, “unless that what you desire, my lady.”

Edelgard unpacked her comb and began to work at untangling the knots in her hair. “You know very well that it isn’t.”

“Here, let me,” Hubert said, and he took the brush from her hands. Sitting on the vanity, Edelgard let him untangle her hair. It was the first time he had come so close to her in days. Starting with the ends of her hair, he began to gently comb the knots out of it. “With any luck, this whole business will be settled soon. We must just tolerate it until it is finished.”

His hands in her hand brought back certain thoughts that she had worked hard to banish. Edelgard sat straight for fear of accidentally leaning back into him. _Why, why did you make things so awkward again?_

A knock came at the door. Hubert set down the brush to answer it. Edelgard felt relief as, for one moment, she was able to relax and breathe. When Hubert returned to her side, he came bearing a letter.

“It is from Cornelia,” he said. He handed her the letter. Edelgard ripped open the seal.

“She wishes to meet tonight over supper,” she said. “You are permitted to attend, but no one else.”

“Very well. I suppose we’ll finally learn what she expects us to do,” Hubert said. He resumed detangling her hair. Edelgard read through the letter another three times. At least with Cornelia, there was no subterfuge. Yet Edelgard couldn’t help but worry.

* * *

Supper with Cornelia was served in intimate quarters. The room was nothing more than a small closet, fitted with wooden panels to stifle any noise. The lack of windows made it seem particularly claustrophobic. Servants seated Edelgard and Hubert at a small round table draped with lace. Cornelia was nowhere to be seen.

“Arriving late after a royal is seen in some circles as a power play,” Hubert noted as they waited. “Highly indecorous.”

Edelgard’s stomach rattled with a mixture of anxiety and hunger. “I do not care about that. I would prefer to handle this quickly, however.” She clenched the clawed arms of the dining chair.

The door opened. Hubert stood to greet Cornelia as she entered. The servants quickly closed and locked the door behind her. Edelgard remained seated—her own little powerplay.

“Lady Cornelia, thank you for your invitation,” Edelgard said, as Cornelia slid into the seat opposite her. “This is Hubert von Vestra—”

“I have been made aware,” Cornelia said curtly. “Arundel says that you are to be trusted.” She gestured to the two servants. “We can speak freely. They our own people.”

The servants appeared so normal—brown eyes, brown hair, empty expressions. Edelgard’s stomach twisted, looking for some imperfection to denote their unnatural origins. The signs of imposture manifested in small details—a face that gleamed too brightly, an eye that seemed just the wrong proportion. She wondered if these had been real people too, replaced by doppelgangers, or merely perverse human constructions. 

One of the servants opened a bottle of wine and began to pour into their glasses. Cornelia peered at Edelgard through heavily lidded eyes.

“Tell me, Princess, how is Garreg Mach?”

“All is going according to plan,” she said.

“Straight to business. I like it,” Cornelia purred. The servants brought out plates of olives, cheeses, tomatoes, and sliced meat. Edelgard suddenly lost her appetite. “Well, let’s get to it then. I assume that Thibault gave you the basic run-down?”

“He did.”

“Lord Gideon operates the treasury,” Cornelia said, “something that would be very useful for us to control, but unfortunately, his disappearance didn’t exactly go according to plan. I won’t bore you with the details, but I need you to get Thibault off our trail.”

Edelgard did not like how she spoke to her—as though Edelgard was just some tool. 

“What do you want us to do?” Hubert asked.

“As you know, your Uncle and I make great use of the Western Church as a cloak for our endeavors in the region,” Cornelia said. “We’ll be making our next step soon, which should pave the way for you to get into the Holy Mausoleum and get your hands on the sword of the creator.”

Edelgard steeled herself. She hadn’t expected this to happen so soon, but when had Arundel ever been forthcoming with his designs?

“We need to pin this on the Western Church. Thibault is getting suspicious, so I would like him to be dealt with at the same time.”

Edelgard frowned. “What do you meant dealt with?”

Cornelia’s eyes flashed in fury. “What do you think I mean, Princess? This isn’t the first time I’ve caught him sniffing my trail, and I want him gone.”

“We can handle it,” Hubert said.

“He’s from Arianrhod, so it shouldn’t be difficult to convince people that he’s a lackey of the church,” Cornelia said. She snapped her fingers. One of the servants produced a letter with his seal. “Here, I even did the work for you. Tomorrow, when Thibault takes you to investigate, I think you’ll find the path a bit more easily than the Knights. After you find Lord Gideon—alive and well—, you’ll ‘find’ this note. I’ll put it somewhere even an idiot could find it.”

They were laying a maze, and Edelgard was the rat who would run through it. She couldn’t even bear to look at Cornelia. Hubert had fixed a steely gaze on her.

“Is that all?” he asked.

“Well, now that I think about it, yes.” Cornelia fluttered her eyes. “Your only job is perform the script that we wrote. I don’t see any other need for you at the moment.”

“Very well,” Edelgard said. “We’ll take care of it.”

Cornelia stood. “You should eat, darling. Boys don’t like girls who are too skinny.” She snapped her fingers, and the servants trailed out after her. 

Edelgard fumed in her seat. When she was certain that Cornelia was gone, she turned to Hubert and unleashed her anger.

“They have everything all set for us,” Edelgard said. “When was my Uncle going to tell me that they were already making plans to move in on the Mausoleum? Why was I not informed of this?”

“Clearly, they are trying to control you by keeping you in the dark,” Hubert said.

“There is no mission. Tomorrow, we’ll follow their crumb trail and do exactly as they say.”

“Consider it a small concession, my lady,” Hubert said. “This affair is meaningless. Let us use it to our advantage. Play the loyal dogs for a moment, and use it to get your Uncle to reveal more of his plans to us.”

“I don’t like what she wants us to do to Thibault,” Edelgard said. “I don’t think I can do it. His only crime is doing his job well.”

“We knew that innocents may fall in this path,” Hubert said. “Consider this a sacrifice for the greater good.”

Edelgard’s mouth went dry. It was one thing for casualties to occur; it was another to frame an innocent so that he would no longer annoy Cornelia. She knew what the Central Church would do to him if they suspected him of conspiring against them.

“That doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Edelgard said. “And frankly, I do not see it as necessary.”

“You heard Thibault himself. He knows that it is not the Western Church. If we move forward without dealing with him, he may further disprove their involvement. Cast him down now, and it will look as though he only raised such suspicions to hide his own deceit. People will think twice before accusing her. It will improve Cornelia’s position and our own.”

“It will help Cornelia. It will do nothing for us,” Edelgard said, “or anyone else for that matter.”

Hubert grasped her hand. Edelgard’s eyes widened as he slid to his knees before her. “If it brings you such distress, then allow me to handle it, my lady,” Hubert said. “You need not be involved.”

“What kind of leader would I be if I just handed off all the difficult decisions to you?” Edelgard said. “No, I…I must sleep on this.” As she stood, her hand slipped out of his.

* * *

If Edelgard had only acquiesced to Hubert’s offer, the affair could have been much simpler. As it were, she retired before he could gain her formal permission. _This is what she wants_ , he rationalized. _This solves it to everyone’s satisfaction._ So what if she did not formally approve? It was Hubert’s job to ensure the fulfillment of her desires.

He arrived just before midnight at Thibault’s door. Through the thin walls, Hubert heard Thibault tell his wife to grab a knife before he answered it.

“Mr. Paquet,” Hubert said in a droll tone. “We need to talk.”

Mrs. Paquet made tea while they sat at the table together. Hubert folded his hands.

“I will be blunt,” he said. “You are correct in your assumption that someone at court is responsible for the recent disappearance of Lord Gideon. I should, however, warn you that they plan to let you take the fall for it.”

Thibault slumped in his seat. “Tell me. Is it Cornelia?”

“I can neither deny nor confirm it,” Hubert said.

“It’s not the Western Church. I know that much,” Thibault said. “There’s always been religious tensions, but when I left Arianrhod ten years ago, nobody was speaking of sedition or schism. But it’s all Cornelia can ever talk about.”

“Such tensions are likely to worsen,” Hubert said. “There is nothing you can do to stop it.”

Thibault scoffed. “And why are you telling me this?”

“Because I cannot abide useful people being wasted,” Hubert said. “I am assisting you at great personal risk. If you do not wish to take my offer, you may send me away now, but I should warn you that the only other option ends with your head rolling.”

Mrs. Paquet gasped. She clutched the dagger to her chest.

“Why should I trust you?”

“You know what’s going on. And you know that as impressive as it is to rise to the post of Principal Prosecutor, it is nothing compared to the power that the nobles wield. If you wish to escape your fate, you will listen to me.”

Hubert removed a heavy pouch from his belt and placed it on the table in front of Thibault.

“Is this a bribe to have me look the other way?” Thibault asked.

“It is an advance,” Hubert said. “If you want it, you must leave tonight. There is a hack waiting outside your door. It will take you as far south as the border. When you reach the town of Talsburg, ask for a woman named Velasco.” Some distant cousin of his and one of the many spies in waiting around the Empire. “Tell her Hubert sent her. Within six weeks, I will have arranged your transfer to a place where your talents will be rewarded and the nobility won’t have you killed.”

“And if I say no?” Thibault asked.

“Then I will have to kill you myself so that you will not reveal that I came to you with this.” Thibault’s jaw rolled. Hubert recognized anger in his eyes. Hubert turned to Mrs. Paquet. “Ma’am, if I were you, I would start packing what few belongings you would like to take with you.”

“Thibault...” she said, looking towards her husband for reassurance.

Thibault clenched his fists. Hubert wondered if he would fight it.

“Get the kids, Nora,” he said.

Hubert lingered on the steps of their home as they packed their bags and carried their sleepy children into the hack carriage. The hack rolled away. Hubert watched in satisfaction.

Edelgard could never know. She had gone to bed without a word to Hubert. If his plan would succeed, he had to work quickly, and that meant that he had no time to get her approval. She would almost be proud of him, if he had time to inform her.

As it were, he knew she would not take kindly to his interference without her permission. It didn’t matter to him. She would not have to live with the doubt of her decision, and the spirit of her request would be honored.

Hubert began the long walk back to the palace in the night.

* * *

Thibault’s disappearance came more quietly than Hubert expected. The Black Eagles gathered and waited for him to appear the next day. An hour passed before Manuela stalked off to find someone else. No one knew where he was.

“This is very odd,” Ferdinand said. “What do you suppose happened?”

“What if he disappeared too?” Bernadetta tittered. “He got too close to the truth, and somebody offed him, and now they’re going to come after us!”

“If he doesn’t show up, does that mean we get to skip today?” Linhardt asked.

Hubert watched Edelgard carefully. Concern pinched her face. Her soft violet eyes drifted off elsewhere, and she was biting her lip.

“We should go on our own,” she said.

“What about Professor Manuela?” Caspar asked.

“We cannot wait,” Edelgard decided. “We know where the scene of the crime is. We can handle this on our own.” 

“I agree,” Ferdinand said. “Time is of the essence. If somebody got to Thibault too, we’ll have to rescue him as well.”

“Can’t we just wait back in the palace?” Bernadetta asked.

“No,” Edelgard said. “Let’s get this over with.”

The locals helped them find their way to Saint Macuil Boulevard, and from there, the crime scene was marked off with heavy wooden barriers. One by one, they climbed over the barriers. It took some coaxing to get Bernadetta to follow, but Caspar eventually just picked her up and hurtled her over.

Black scorch marks splintered up the edge of the stone walls. The air tingled with the residue of magic.

“Look around,” Edelgard said. “Find whatever clues you can.”

The Black Eagles dispersed. Ferdinand crouched low to the ground to inspect every singed weed that poked up between the cobblestone. Linhardt spent ten minutes staring at the same charred patch of mortar. Caspar walked the perimeter once before declaring he couldn’t find anything. Bernadetta didn’t search at all but rather remained pressed against the wooden barriers.

“I am finding a clue!” Petra declared excitedly. Everyone mobbed around her. She felt to her knees and began scrapping dirt away from an imprint in the ground. Ferdinand recognized what she was doing and joined her. In a matter of minutes, they revealed a hatch in the ground.

“It is so obvious,” Ferdinand said. “You almost wonder how Thibault did not see it.”

Some sort of magic concealment, Hubert guessed, or perhaps they had placed some sort of obstruction over it that made it less obvious to the prosecutor. In any case, Cornelia had been correct. This was painfully easy.

It took a few tugs, but they managed to open the hatch. Ferdinand offered to go down first. He dropped down into the darkness and called for them to follow. Edelgard went next, followed by Hubert.

Candles dimly lit the basement below. Hubert scanned the room.

“There!” Edelgard exclaimed. A man bound in rope wriggled at the end of the basement. Hubert recognized the plastic sheen and sickly pallor of his face. Lord Gideon was dead. This person who wore his face was one of Those Who Slithered in the Dark.

Hubert made a quick patrol of the basement. Sure enough, sitting on an unvarnished table spackled with blood, he found Cornelia’s letter. Quickly he stuffed it into his jacket. He would have to burn it later.

“Hubert, what did you find there?” Ferdinand asked.

“Nothing,” Hubert answered.

* * *

That night, as Edelgard dressed for bed, Hubert stood on the other side of her screen. Part of him wondered if she would ask him to stay again. Part of him wanted her to, but he knew that it was for the best if she didn’t.

It wasn’t that Hubert personally objected to that night. He would be lying if he said that he hadn’t enjoyed it. He could risk her Uncle’s wrath. That wasn’t the issue.

Merely, it was best that they did not fall back into old patterns. Edelgard didn’t need the distraction. He could serve her best as her vassal, no matter what his body or his heart otherwise wanted him to do. Besides, one day, she would likely have to make a political marriage, and it would never be to a von Vestra.

Perhaps if she had remained the ninth child of the king, instead of his only living heir; perhaps if Those Who Slithered in the Dark hadn’t conducted their dark experiments or if the Lords hadn’t revolted against her father; perhaps if this was a time of peace instead of a precursor to war—then perhaps they could have been happy.

Hubert knew his path. Whatever comfort Edelgard sought was nothing compared to the glory he would bring her.

“Will you brush my hair again?” she asked as she came out in her dressing robe.

“Of course, my lady.”

She sat at the vanity while he ran the comb through her hair.

“Hubert, you had nothing to do with Thibault’s disappearance, right?”

Part of him wanted to tell her, but he knew that it was far too late to gain her approval. Edelgard needed to feel secure in her power. That was more important than the truth.

“Of course, my lady. You told me not to.”

Uncomfortable silence pervaded for longer than he liked. Edelgard wrung her nightgown in her lap. “You know I trust you with everything, right, Hubert?”

“Of course, my lady,” he said softly. “Why do you ask?”

“I can tell when you are keeping secrets,” she said firmly. “And I don’t like it.”

Hubert continued brushing her hair. “Everything that I do, Lady Edelgard, I do for you. Occasionally, these things must happen quickly and discreetly. But they are in accordance with your plans and desires.”

“No,” Edelgard said firmly. “I do not find that acceptable.”

“Very well. Forgive me, my lady. I have overstepped.”

“That’s not a sincere apology.”

“Well, what do you want from me then?” His tone was more curt than he intended.

Edelgard sighed. “You know what, I think I can handle it from here. Good night, Hubert.”

Hubert set down the brush and bowed. “Goodnight, my lady.”

Her anger left a palpable aura that clung to him as he left the room. He had offended her, and such a thought wounded him, but such trivial feelings did not matter. In the end, this was what was best.


	9. Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard's birthday comes with joy and with pain. Turns out, Hubert isn't the only one who wants to wish her happy birthday.

Dorothea found Hubert in the market, idling outside of a jeweler’s window. Smirking, Dorothea snuck behind him. Unusually absorbed, Hubert didn’t notice her until she leaned over and said,

“Hubie, what are you doing?”

Hubert scowled and swung around. Upon seeing Dorothea, his shoulders slumped, and in a rare moment of unguarded exasperation, he said, “I am looking for a present for Lady Edelgard’s birthday.”

“Oh, Hubie,” Dorothea said. “Buying a girl jewelry might come off a little strong. You don’t want to scare her away.”

“We have a tradition,” he said.

“Oh?” Dorothea crossed her arms and leaned on the windowsill. “Well, are you going to tell me?”

“If you must know,” Hubert said, “when Edelgard turned five, my mother presented her a charm bracelet. Every year after that, we would give her a new charm.” Hubert hadn’t seen in his mother in some years, but ever since Edelgard returned from the Kingdom, he had continued on the tradition.

“Oh, that’s adorable,” Dorothea said. “I must say, I am a little surprised at just how cute that is.”

Hubert’s gave her a deadly side eye. “Don’t patronize me.”

“So what are you going to give her this year?” Dorothea asked. 

He sighed. “This may surprise you, but I lack the eye for such gifts. I must admit, I am completely bereft of ideas.”

“Well, you should think of something special,” Dorothea said. “Something meaningful about her. She enjoys painting. How about a paintbrush?”

“I’ve already done that,” Hubert said.

“Ooh, or a dancer!”

“I’ve done that too,” Hubert said. “And an axe and an eagle.” He was worrying the fingertips of his gloves. Dorothea sighed. The mocking fun had withered away, and she almost felt pity for him.

“All right, inside,” She said. “Let’s talk to the jeweler and figure this out.”

“You do not need to assist me—”

“You’re welcome, Hubie,” Dorothea said, shoving him towards the door. Although he would never admit such a thing, he was a bit thankful for her insistence. He was totally lost. “Is there something special that just the two of you have? There must be some sort of story or memory that has sentimental value.”

“I don’t know.” They entered the cool interior of the store.

“You don’t know? Seriously? How long have you known her?”

“I’m not usually fond of sentimental gestures,” Hubert said. “Yet it has come to the point that Lady Edelgard almost expects such things every year. I would hate to disappoint her.”

“Well, with that brilliant brain of yours, you should be able to come up with something,” Dorothea said. “Maybe an inside joke or a story that only the two of you know.” Hubert made a low groan.

The shopkeeper brought out a velvet tray of gleaming gold trinkets. Flowers and horses and hairbrushes and books numbered amongst the small ornaments. There was a selection of mythological creatures—a dragon, a fairy, and so on. All of them blended together for Hubert. He wondered why he even bothered trying.

“Oh, these are gorgeous,” Dorothea said. “And I’m assuming with your family, you can probably afford them.” She picked up a small rose charm that winked in the light.

“My mother used to pick out things like that,” Hubert said. “Pegasus and bows and seashells. All very ‘sweet’ and ‘precious.’ I am not certain that suits Edelgard any longer.”

“Sounds like your mother was fond of her,” Dorothea said.

“She was, likely because we were—” He stopped short before he uttered the word ‘betrothed.’ There were no daughters in the von Vestra family, and Hubert’s mother had delighted on the idea of raising up Edelgard as her future daughter-in-law, especially following the exile of Edelgard’s mother.

Pausing awkwardly, he choked out the word “friends” instead. Dorothea raised an eyebrow—never a good sign.

“Uh huh,” she said. Hubert picked up a charm and held it up to the light. His eyes squinted as he studied it, so intensely Dorothea might have thought it was a diamond. “Did you find something?”

“Excuse me, sir, would you call this a griffin?” he asked the shopkeeper. The shopkeeper nodded. Hubert’s eyes narrowed upon it.

“Why a griffin?” Dorothea asked.

“You’re right,” Hubert said. “I’d probably have to explain it to her. She may not even remember.”

“So it does have a special meaning? What is it? Tell me!”

“Just something we used to do as children,” Hubert said. “It’s a foolish thing to give a woman on her eighteenth birthday.”

“Ugh, Hubie, stop that,” Dorothea said. “It’ll be sweet. She’ll like that. Just tell me the story, and I’ll decide if it’s a good one or not.”

Hubert sighed. “You’re not going to spread this around the monastery, are you?” 

“What? That you were a child once? Don’t worry. I don’t think anyone would believe that.” 

So Hubert explained, his face growing redder and his voice lower as the story continued.

“Oh, Hubie,” Dorothea said. “That’s very adorable.”

Somehow, that didn’t make him feel better.

* * *

_Rebellion_ was hot on the tongues of Garreg Mach. The air hung with the heavy weight of sedition. The Western Church had revolted. Schism was imminent. And worse, they had chosen to express their succession through violence.

Walking past the Blue Lions classroom, Edelgard could not help but shiver in dread. Most of the Blue Lions House had assembled around Ashe, who was shaking in his attempts to stave off tears. Lord Lonato, the so-called conspirator, was his adoptive father.

Edelgard wondered if the Church would punish Ashe for Lonato’s crimes. No doubt Ashe would suffer increased surveillance. This could affect his whole life, she realized. Any associations with Lonato might affect his ability to gain employment as a knight or to serve any institution connected to the Church.

The greatest injustice of it all was that Lonato wasn’t even the true instigator. Was it Arundel or Cornelia who insisted on this plan? What other little rats did they have scuttling in the walls of every Church and Castle in Fódlan?

As Edelgard walked into the Black Eagles classroom, she saw Hubert reading by the bookcase. With a crook of his finger, he gestured for her to approach. 

“Your Uncle wishes to meet with you,” he spoke just above a whisper. “He has told us to bring our friend.” Jeritza. This was it. Her Uncle was about to put his ploy into motion. Finally, they would figure out what was going on.

“How did you get the message?” Edelgard asked. She had spent much of the last month trying to suss out who her Uncle’s spy might be.

“A note under my door,” he said.

Edelgard seethed with frustration. That would get her nowhere.

“Very well. When do we leave?”

“Tonight. Best we slip away during dinner.”

The sunlight had dwindled by the time they made their way to the ruins of the Imperial fort. As Edelgard climbed the trail towards its gates, she felt a chill descend, draping over her like a wet, heavy blanket. The sky through the trees had taken on a glossy tint like the filmy sheen of a bubble.

“Well, your Uncle certainly didn’t take long to make himself at home,” Hubert remarked. “These are powerful wards. My magic will be useless here.”

“Let’s hope my Uncle is not in a vengeful mood then,” she said.

Behind the gates, activity bustled. Soldiers thronged the courtyard. Masons had begun to patch the ramparts and restore the old towers. As Edelgard passed through the crowd, one-by-one they all paused and bowed.

“Princess, you have arrived,” warbled the airy voice of her Uncle’s righthand man. Delphi wore the skin of an older, somber man, although the blood that ran through his veins came from the same subterranean hollows as Those Who Slithered in the Dark.

With a shallow bow, Delphi guided them the undercroft where Arundel waited.

Jeritza was already there. He leaned against a moldering wall, his arms crossed and his lips pouted. He refused to even look at Lord Arundel.

“Uncle, it is good to see you again,” Edelgard said. “Why the sudden visit?”

“Tomorrow is an auspicious birthday for you, isn’t it?” Arundel asked. Edelgard swallowed hard. Eighteen was a mixed bag. She could, with her father’s blessing, finally rise to be Emperor on her own right without a regent, but it also invited threats of marriage and control from the nobility.

Arundel snapped his fingers, and Delhi scrambled to uncork a bottle of wine. Arundel offered a glass as Delphi filled it. Edelgard did not partake. Her fingers gripped the stem so tightly, she worried it might snap in two.

“I heard of your successful mission in Fhirdiad,” Arundel said.

Edelgard pursed her lips and nodded. It was as close to praise as she would get from her Uncle. “I am glad we could be of satisfaction to Cornelia.”

“Oh, Cornelia is never satisfied,” Arundel sneered. “It is hardly your fault.”

Edelgard winced. Did Cornelia suspect their involvement in Thibault’s disappearance? Or was she just annoyed that he got the slip on her? Edelgard could not think of a way of asking without revealing their hand.

“According to her, you’re making plans without me,” Edelgard said.

“I am guessing by that snide tone of yours that you are displeased. I could hardly afford to distract you during your studies,” Arundel said. “Besides, our lines of communication are thin. We cannot afford to notify you of everything, or we risk the Church finding out.”

“Are you honestly telling me that you don’t have one of your agents in the church already?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Of course, I do,” Arundel said. Edelgard marveled at the ease of his admission. “But you have your job, and they have theirs. Right now, you are to play the good student and impress that false prophet Rhea so that our agents can move more easily without suspicion. You are our public face; allow the others to do their work in the dark.”

“I would like to be notified of your plans in advance,” Edelgard said. “I am old enough to be Emperor now.”

“But you are still a child,” Arundel said. “Stop pouting and realize what needs to be done. I am not your enemy, Edelgard. Everything I do, I do for you.”

_Lies._ Edelgard bit her lip. Arundel only lifted her up so that he could stand on her shoulders. He was still too powerful to contend with. He commanded an army of mages and artificers. He controlled the troops in the courtyard. All she had was a handful of loyal adjutants: Hubert, Jeritza, Ladislava, but no one else. 

_One day, I’ll escape him_ , she thought bitterly.

“Very well. Tell me your plan.”

“Doubtless you have heard of the rebellion in Faerghus,” Arundel said. “A minor lord with a grudge has started a rebellion within the Western Church. The goal will be to draw the churches forces out to an ambush. They’ll kill Lonato, and they’ll find a rather convincing scheme hidden on him to assassinate Rhea on the day of the Rite of the Rebirth.”

“You’re going to assassinate her already?”

“Of course not, child. At least, _we_ won’t.” He smirked. “Our friends from the Western Church will try, but doubtless, they will fail. They don’t realize that we’ll be revealing their plan to the archbishop. No, we have a different target. The Rite of Rebirth is the only day that the Holy Mausoleum is open. Your job will be to get us into the tomb of Seiros. Security will be distracted protecting the archbishop, leaving the tomb open for the taking.”

“The crest stone of Seiros,” Edelgard said. “You are already making designs on it.”

Arundel nodded. “I plan to send Delphi and a small contingent of soldiers. They will disguise themselves as pilgrims visiting the Holy Mausoleum. They’ll arrive late in the day, just before closing, and once inside, they’ll get rid of the guards and breech the tomb.”

“Powerful magic seals that tomb,” Hubert said.

“Indeed, but nothing we cannot handle,” Arundel said. “What I need from you is the way in. I need the schedules of the guards. I need to know how many reinforcements they’re planning. If possible, I need an alternate entrance and exit.”

Edelgard scoffed. “You’re certainly demanding for a man who will not reveal his plans to me.”

“I’m giving you an opportunity to prove yourself now. Do not squander it.” He rubbed his temples. “Finally, I will need full use of Jeritza in the coming months. As our plans progress, we require the need of the Death Knight—”

_No_. Jeritza was her last bargaining chip.

“I don’t answer to you,” Jeritza growled.

“I’ll consider your request carefully,” Edelgard said. “However, I cannot in full faith relinquish use of one of my champions without understanding what they are being used for.”

“I lack both the time and breath to explain the full extent of our campaign,” Arundel said. “Suffice to say that he will be efficiently utilized in disrupting the stability of the Church.”

“Hmph,” was Jeritza’s response.

“That is not a satisfactory answer,” Edelgard said.

“What need do you have of knowing the intricacies of our plans,” Arundel said. “In fact, I would prefer that you focus on infiltrating the Church. You have already failed to assassinate the heirs to Faerghus and Leicester. Cornelia suspects that you purposely interfered with her plans in Fhirdiad. Perhaps I overestimated you. Perhaps you have been granted too much responsibility too early.”

“Lady Edelgard has acted admirably in everything that she has done,” Hubert said. Edelgard wanted to tell him to stop, but rarely had she seen such a fire lit in his eyes. “The Lords survived because of an intervention by an unusually powerful group of mercenaries. What happened in Fhirdiad had nothing to do with us. We followed Cornelia’s instructions down to the letter. If she has anyone to blame, it is herself.”

Arundel went strangely calm. Edelgard had seen him like this in dark moments before. Any hint of emotion washed from his face. Not a muscle moved. It was as if he had frozen into a painting. 

“I don’t recall asking you, boy.”

The air crackled with heat. Edelgard saw only a flash. Hubert cried out as his body flew backwards against the wall.

Jeritza unsheathed his sword in a moment. His lips curled back in hunger.

“Jeritza, stop!” Edelgard yelled as she skidded down to Hubert’s side. She lifted his head, and he gasped in anguish.

“Let me at him,” Jeritza growled. “Let me carve into his flesh. I hunger for it.”

Hubert’s face twisted in pain as he writhed in pain. His hands clenched at his ribs. There were no scorch marks on his clothing, which was worrying. Dark magic intruded on the internal organs. This was likely no simple injury.

Edelgard whipped her head towards Arundel. “How dare you. I will not grant any access to the Death Knight.” 

“There are other ways.” 

“Try them then,” Edelgard said. “Go on. Ask Jeritza if he’ll follow you.”

Arundel turned towards Jeritza. The swordsman had turned manic, like a predator about to pounce on its prey.

“I will not tolerate the antagonization of my bodyguards,” Edelgard said. “Hubert is my righthand man. I grant him the freedom to speak at liberty. If you have a problem with that, then I will reconsider any future use of the Death Knight or the von Vestra family as a whole.”

She wondered if he would call her out on her bluff. The von Vestras controlled the intelligence network of the nation, after all, but Edelgard held little influence with Hubert’s family.

Arundel sighed. If anything, he appeared annoyed. “I would recommend against letting that boy overstep his place.”

“Your choice, _Thales_.”

She never spoke that name.

It was like a curse, held in the secret archive of her mind. She had only heard it whispered before in closed rooms and darkened corners—by Delphi or Cornelia but never by the man who called himself Volkhard.

His face went blank again. Edelgard braced herself for a magical attack.

“What is it exactly that you want?” he spat.

“I want to be informed of all matters, and I want a say in how they conducted within the Empire,” Edelgard said. “And not only when you need me. If you feel that you can trust me well enough with such transparency, I will grant you use of my agents freely, but if you keep secrets me, I shall have no choice but to keep them from you as well.”

Beside her, Hubert wheezed in pain. Jeritza still danced with his sword out, shifting from foot to foot in anticipation.

Arundel smiled. “It is always hard to see a little girl grow up. You know, I always considered you as a daughter, Edelgard. Perhaps I have underestimated you.”

“Are you agreeing to my terms then?”

Arundel waved a hand. Delphi stepped forward faithfully. “I’ll be in touch within the week. You’ll have what information you desire. I expect you, however, to commence your investigations immediately into the Holy Mausoleum. Time of the essence, and we do not have the luxury to dally.”

Arundel and Delphi disappeared in a burst of shadow. Jeritza screamed with unbridled anger. His sword cleaved against stone, and sparks erupted.

“Jeritza, help me get him back to the monastery.” Edelgard was strong enough to carry him back, but magic was not her strong suit, and she could never manage to warp anyone but herself.

Jeritza sheathed his sword reluctantly. He grabbed Hubert by the collar and evaporated into shadow.

They reappeared on the outskirts of town. There, Jeritza left them, mumbling about sating his hunger. Normally, Edelgard would have worried about it, but Hubert’s condition preoccupied her. Hubert leaned on Edelgard heavily. Whatever magic her Uncle used, it cut through him sharply. She had never seen him like this.

Her crests granted the strength needed to haul him back to his dorm. The late hour granted them some privacy, although she could hear Claude howling in laughter down the hall. She quickly let them into Hubert’s room and deposited him on the bed.

Hubert inhaled long, measured breaths to control the pain, but he could not keep his face from contorting. One hand clutched his ribs where it hurt. Edelgard ripped open the buttons of his skirt and pushed it aside. Blackened bruises spilled up the pale skin of his chest. The sharp ridges of his ribs pushed through the skin as he writhed in pain. 

She needed magic to heal this—Manuela or Linhardt or someone more skilled in the arts of Faith—, but asking for help was out of the question.

“There’s a concoction in my desk,” Hubert rattled.

Edelgard fumbled around the desk. His desk was immaculately clean, bereft of any belongings. She opened a drawer and rummaged through the sparse collection. Her nails caught on a groove in the wood. Peering down, it looked as though there was some sort of panel. Prying it up, Edelgard saw a collection of small vials.

“You certainly have the collection of poisons,” she said. He could hear the annoyance in her voice.

“A precaution,” Hubert said between gasps. “Hardly used.”

“ _Hardly_.” The word tasted like acid on her tongue. She could see several missing vials. Finally, she found a half-empty vial of concoction. “You’re not going to die if I give this to you?” she asked.

“No,” Hubert said. “That is safe.”

She popped out to the cork as she sat next to him. Holding his head up, she fed him the drink in short sips. He flinched at the bitter taste. Over the course of several minutes, the pain leeched away and his body began to relax.

“I’m not sure that will completely heal the damage,” Edelgard said. The fringes of the bruise began to molt green at the edges.

“It will not kill me,” Hubert said. “But I’ll need a few days to recover.”

“Please be careful around Arundel,” Edelgard said. “You know he is dangerous.”

“I could not stand there and let him slander you,” Hubert said.

“What good does it do,” Edelgard said. “You know what he is capable of.”

“I know what you are capable of,” Hubert said. “He should realize it too. For what it is worth, I think you conducted yourself extraordinarily well.”

“How? I’m still playing right into his hands.”

Hubert reached out a hand and let it drift through the loose strands of her hair. “No. You demonstrated that you know how to play his game.”

Edelgard sighed. She did not want to parse the encounter any further. The real test would be Arundel’s next communication. If he chose to divulge information, then—and only then—would she consider it a victory.

“Are you still in pain?” she asked.

“It will pass in time.”

“What can I do to help?”

“You need not worry about me.”

“You always take such good care of me. Let me take care of you.”

Hubert swallowed and looked away. His hand fell from her hair. She realized that she was asking him to verbalize his wants and needs—no easy task with a man like him.

“I suppose if you wish to keep me company until the medicine takes its full effect, I would not object,” he said. Edelgard smiled. “But first, milady, if you would excuse me while I find a new shirt.”

Edelgard blushed _,_ suddenly realizing his exposed chest. The heat scored straight through her as she realized how casually she had left her hand drift over his chest. _Now things were going to become very awkward._

* * *

For Edelgard’s birthday, Bernadetta baked a cake. The whole dining hall burst into song. Professor Manuela gave her a bottle of wine and Professor Byleth, a bouquet of flowers. Petra showed them how to weave the bouquet of flowers into a crown, which Edelgard wore proudly. Edelgard expressed mortification at the attention, but something about it made her gleeful.

They stole away after dinner to the bailey by the front gate, where they could drink the illicit wine and eat the cake without interruption. A few of them had bought gifts. Petra gave her a game from Brigid, with a beautiful engraved board and game pieces made from marbled glass. Ferdinand gave her Bergamot tea ( _her favorite; how did he know?),_ and Dorothea presented a set of beautiful hair ribbons. Bernadetta had even crocheted a little stuffed bear with a Black Eagles uniform and white yarn for hair.

Afterwards, as they fed frosting to the stray cats from their fingers and dared Caspar to climb the battlements, Edelgard had a warm realization of affection for these people. For all those years that she had dreaded the loneliness of her birthday, she suddenly had a family again. She had forgotten—if only for a moment—her uncle and the mages and the looming threat of war.

In this moment, she could simply escape.

Night came, and curfew rang from the belfry. They walked back to the dorms in a clump of laughter and howling.

Edelgard paused at the first-floor dorms. The boys began to disperse—except for Hubert, her shadow, who lingered ever present just a few steps away. Edelgard wanted to wish the girls good night.

“I think you have one more gift left,” Dorothea whispered as she reached forward for a hug. Walking backwards to her dorm, Dorothea turned to Hubert and gave him a wink.

“What was that about?” she asked Hubert. Hubert carried the bulk of her gifts, except for the little bear, which Edelgard clutched in her arms as though it was her comfort toy.

“I still have something for you,” Hubert said. “Don’t let Dorothea get your hopes up. It’s nothing really special.”

“Is that so?” Edelgard said. “Well, I’m sure I’ll be very pleased. I wish I could enjoy such moments of respite more often.” Somewhere at the back of her mind, her Uncle’s presence lingered. She tried to push it away.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” Hubert said. “They are all very fond of you, you know.”

“Really?” Edelgard asked they climbed the stairs. “Even Linhardt? You know, the other day he told me that I am twice as overbearing as his mother.” 

“Well, he stayed through the whole party, so I would take that as a compliment,” Hubert said.

Edelgard welcomed him into her dorm room. He took his time assorting her gifts on her desk.

“How is your wound?” she asked.

“It stings, but I will survive,” Hubert said. He fumbled with something in his pocket. “I suppose you can guess what your gift is. It’s not much, really.”

“You’re nervous,” Edelgard said, tipping his chin so that he would look at her.

“I am not nervous. I am not very good with such things,” Hubert said. Edelgard laughed and held out her wrist, where the old charm bracelet dangled off. Hubert removed the small charm from its pouch and worked at attaching it to the bracelet. 

When he was done, Edelgard pulled it close to inspect.

“A griffin,” she said with a smile. “We used to play griffin keepers, I remember.” It had been Edelgard’s favorite game—dressing in ranger green and fur boots to hunt and raise griffins. Hubert rarely enjoyed the nostalgia of such memories, although Edelgard could picture him when he was young and carefree, desperately protecting their herd of griffins. “Didn’t you once give me a griffin egg?” Her eyes twinkled. “I got so mad when Dagmar tried to tell me it was just a rock.”

Hubert bit his lip to hide the emergence of a smile. “Dagmar wasn’t the problem. As I recall, Thorsten was. He kept trying to steal it from you.” Thorsten, just two years older, Hubert’s age—a throwaway prince like she had once been. The memory of his auburn hair and freckled face brought bittersweet memories.

“I remember, but more vividly, I remember you singing his eyebrows off,” Edelgard said.

Hubert scoffed. “I was merely trying to warn him. I had to protect you. You were—” He paused. What was he going to say? His betrothed? His friend? His liege? “Turns out I was more adept with fire magic than I anticipated.”

“You were in so much trouble,” Edelgard said. “Your father threatened to recall you back to Enbarr, and I cried all night because I thought you wouldn’t be able to spend the summer with us at Chateau Hresvelg.”

“You cried for me?” It was difficult to tell through his ironclad expression, but Edelgard thought he might he teasing her.

“Well, it was a lonely prospect, only having Thorsten to play with all summer.”

“I would risk it again, you know, the lectures and the discipline,” Hubert said. His finger brushed the charm. “I would risk it all for you. Let this be a reminder that I will forever be your loyal protector.”

Something fierce sparked inside Edelgard. A deep, visceral pang of longing. She glanced up to see Hubert’s sharp green eyes staring at her with the same fire of yearning. Without thinking, she bit her lips. Hubert’s eyes flickered down, before he looked away embarrassed.

“Does that mean you’ll singe my Uncle’s eyebrows off?”

“Naturally.”

Edelgard laughed. She reached forward for a hug, and part of her was surprised that he reciprocated. But she pulled away this time. Hubert gave a small smile.

“Happy birthday, milady. I hope you have a good night.”

Edelgard grabbed his wrist before he could leave. “Wait, I don’t want my birthday to end yet.” Truthfully, she didn’t want to be alone yet and confront the anxious thoughts of what was to come. “How about we figure out how to play this game Petra gave me?” 

The game was safer territory anyways. They slid down to the floor so that the board could lay flat, and the game enforced a distance between them. This was better, more comfortable, less dangerous. They played for several hours, and the time slipped away from them.

Even as Edelgard began to yawn and drift off, she wanted to keep playing. The end of the game would mean the end of the evening. Tomorrow, she would wake up, and there would be obligations to uphold and duties to complete. Tomorrow, she would have to fret over her Uncle’s plans, and Hubert would morph back to his cold, unyielding self.

She wanted to keep him in this moment, his gangly legs sprawled across her floor, boots and coat discarded, his hair pushed back behind his ears and eyes sharply tapered as he studied the game like a battlefield. She wanted to hold the moment deep inside her, to remember what it felt like to be happy. 

When she could no longer keep her head up, she became aware of him leaning over the game. His arms reached out for hers as he tried to lift her into the bed. Instead, she flopped forward, deeper into his embrace. Her head pressed against his chest. Her body reveled in his heat.

“Milady, you should sleep,” he said, voice throaty and deep.

“Don’t go,” she murmured. “I don’t want this night to end. Stay here with me.” She braced for him to say no. He would deposit in her bed, tuck her in, and then leave. Perhaps it was better that way—to forgo the awkwardness and the rumors and the pain. To avoid their old patterns.

“If that is what milady desires,” he said softly. Burying her face into his chest, she felt them fall into bed. His arms wound around her body. Tonight, at least, she would not be alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to imagine the incredibly weird mood I was in when I first wrote this chapter, with its blend of dark plot and lighthearted fluff. All I can say is, the quarantine sometimes gives odd ideas.


	10. Investigation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard volunteers the Black Eagles to investigate the Cathedral following the Western Church's threats of assassination. Little do the others realize that Edelgard and Hubert carrying on their own, separate investigation. With Garreg Mach on high alert, they will have to act carefully to avoid being caught.

Hubert was a fool.

He knew better than this, to entangle himself in personal feelings and desires. He had long ago put his days of carefree innocence behind him. He had little need of romance or even personal affection. How many times had he lectured others for this very thing?

Yet when Edelgard pressed her face against his chest, he had melted. There was no resistance. No fight left in him. What was wrong with him? The last few months had utterly destroyed his defenses.

The night had passed fitfully for him. He had recurring visions of Seteth barging in the door or Arundel shaking them awake or Claude blackmailing him. He managed to finally slip back asleep for longer than an hour, only to have a dream where he and Edelgard were married—an idea that at once caused such pleasure and alarm that he couldn’t fall back asleep for a while after that.

At one point, he blinked open his eyes to see Edelgard tossing and twisting in the bed beside him. He had reached for her, and she rolled so perfectly into his arms that he couldn’t help but feel a bloom of affection in his chest, followed by a nervous pang.

Now, it was still early and dark outside the window. He didn’t want to move for fear of waking her, but he would have to slip out before others began to rise. It worried him that they were falling back into their old patterns. If they kept this up, someone would eventually notice, and the resulting rumors could cause trouble for Edelgard.

He tried slipping his arm out from under her, but she made a soft nose and snuggled deeper into his embrace. Her breath on his neck immobilized him for a full twenty minutes afterwards. When he tried again, Edelgard blinked her eyes open, and Hubert worried that he had disrupted what precious little rest she had managed to get.

“Hubert?” she murmured sleepily.

“I have to go,” he whispered. “Before others wake.”

She nodded. “Hubert, thank you. I’m sorry for putting you in awkward position.”

“Never, milady. I am always pleased to serve.”

“You don’t have to, you know,” she said in a small voice. “Please don’t feel as though you are obliged to do anything that you are not comfortable with.” Hubert’s pulse surged in his ears. He felt drowned in a mix of emotions he couldn’t recognize. And since his tongue seemed to fail to work, he responded by pressing his lips to her fingers—as if he were kissing a signet ring and not her hand, he tried to tell himself.

Weak, foolish Hubert.

* * *

_Mrowr._

“You hear it as well, do you not?” Ferdinand asked Hubert. They had been walking back from the library after their study group, and both paused at their doors when they heard the noise.

_Mrowr-a-rowr._ It sang dolefully. 

“That is definitely a cat,” Hubert said. They looked at each other. For the last week, neither had gotten much sleep. The nightly yowls and screams had made them think there was a cat stuck in the walls or on the roof. No one else seem to hear it though except them. 

Ferdinand went to Caspar’s door and pressed his ear to the door. Hubert saw the shadow of little feet skitter away under the door. “Damnit, Caspar! He’s keeping a cat in his dorm. This is a violation of the dorm code of conduct!”

Hubert shrugged. He didn’t care about the rules so much as he did about sleeping at night. And he was making a special effort these days to make sure he ended up in his own room at night to avoid any undue…temptation.

Ferdinand rubbed his temples. “I cannot afford this distraction during such a vital month! If someone is really conspiring to assassinate the archbishop, we must be alert and ready.”

“There are ways of taking care of such things,” Hubert said, perhaps too menacingly, judging by Ferdinand’s horrified expression.

“You are not harming that innocent creature!”

“I was going to suggest releasing it and letting Caspar think he forgot to close the door.” This was starting to irritate him. The cat had not stopped yowling, and Hubert had things to do. He pushed open his door, and his foot slid on a piece of paper. He picked it up.

_You will find what you have asked for at the Fort._

“What is that?” Ferdinand asked.

Hubert crumpled the note. “Nothing.”

_Meow. Meowmeowmeow._

If nothing else, the cat provided a convenient excuse.

“I cannot focus here. Excuse me.”

Hubert made his way to the Fort as quickly as possible. Edelgard had decided to spend the afternoon with the other girls, and he did not wish to interfere on her one of her few afternoons of peace. He would just have to go alone and report back to her later.

Soldiers still patrolled the Fort. One of them handed Hubert a heavy parcel wrapped in butcher’s paper and twine. Hubert escaped into the undercroft and unwound the twine with shaking hands. _Was this it? Were these the plans that Arundel had promised them?_

The parcel contained a letter written in Arundel’s hand, several pages long. Below it, there were a few slender tomes, wrapped in purple leather.

Hubert skimmed through the letter, but it contained nothing overt. Arundel confirmed, in vague language, their plans for the Rite of Rebirth. Afterwards, he wished to commence “the production of artificial crests” and “advanced weapon development.” To do so, he needed “Nabatean hemoglobin” sourced from “an original carrier.” The books would explain how to do that, the letter claimed.

Hubert hungrily thumbed through the books, but he found the magic glyphs inscrutable. He had never seen magic like this before. There were sketches of strange devices; hieroglyphics of uncertain origins; and complicated theorems, explicated by extensive marginalia.

Hubert growled in frustration. Arundel complied with Edelgard’s request but in the most arcane way possible. Hubert was certain he could eventually decode the volumes, but whether he could do so before the Rite of Rebirth was uncertain.

He doubted that the Church archives would carry any relevant information on this matter, but he would have to start his research somewhere. He folded the letter and stuck it between the pages of the book. He would have to be very careful that no one found these. For now, he stuck them in the inside-pocket of his school coat.

Edelgard would want to know.

* * *

It was a bright sunny day—perfect for canelés and madeleines on the patio. Petra was describing her spar with Ingrid, and Dorothea shared a story about her last disastrous date. Edelgard’s tea had finally cooled to the perfect temperature when Hilda came marching up.

“Dorothea—Oh good, Edelgard and Petra are here too. That’s makes my job easy.” Hilda grinned. “Claude would like to speak to you all.”

“Whatever for?” Edelgard asked. Hilda shrugged.

“You heard, right, about what they found on Lonato?” 

The note threatening assassination. Edelgard was acting her best to be surprised.

“Yes, it is making me the most concerned,” Petra said.

“Just terrible,” Dorothea agreed.

Hilda nodded. “Well, Claude has some sort of masterplan, and he needs everyone to help him.”

Edelgard frowned. “Is this safe?”

“Professor Byleth approved it, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Edelgard sighed. “Fine. Where is he?”

Twenty minutes later, Edelgard and the other girls wandered into the Golden Deer classroom. To her surprise, Claude had already assembled a motley group of students. Caspar was there for some reason, chatting excitedly with Ashe. Annette was jumping excitedly in front of a stern-faced Dedue and a bemused Dimitri. Most of the Golden Deer had assembled as well.

“Ah, finally, your highnesses have arrived,” Claude said. He was sitting on one of the desks, having rolled the blackboard up behind him. Edelgard recognized a rough shape of campus scrawled on the blackboard. “Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to commence our meeting. As you all know, a threat has been made against the archbishop. The Western Church is planning to assassinate her on the day of the Rite of the Rebirth. But something here isn’t right.”

Edelgard steeled her expression. What exactly was going through Claude’s head? 

“Why would they leave a letter declaring their intentions so clearly? When Lonato was marching into the battle, and they knew he might die or be captured by the enemy? No, I think they’re trying to distract us. I think the true target is somewhere else.”

Gasps ran around the room. Edelgard feigned a look of surprise.

“But what else would the Western Church want?” Dimitri asked.

Claude shrugged. “That’s why I’ve assembled all of you. We’re going to investigate this matter.”

“That’s a wise idea, Claude,” Dimitri asked. “If we spread out, perhaps we can locate some clues.”

Annette waved her arm in the air. “Ooh, ooh, I’ve heard that there’s a mysterious masked figure in town. They say he’s dressed like a horned knight in all black armor.”

Ashe’s eyes widened. “That’s j-just a story, though, right? I didn’t think that was true.”

_Jeritza._ Edelgard took a deep breath. She would have to stop this before it got much further. After their return a fortnight ago, Jeritza had become too eager in sating his bloodlust. Edelgard would have to provide him with a distraction, and _soon._

“Good, good,” Claude said. “Anything else?” 

“I heard there was a thief in the pantry!” Raphael said. “What if it has something to do with that?”

“Don’t worry, Caspar and I took care of that,” Ashe said.

“Yeah! I’m an investigative genius.” Caspar pumped his fist. “First, I solved the mystery of Lord Gideon, and then we caught Mr. Burglar, the pantry thief.”

“Mr. Burglar?” Dorothea asked.

“Yeah, Mr. C. Burglar. Cause he’s a cat, and he’s a thief. Get it? Cat burglar?”

Dorothea and Edelgard stared at him, slackjawed.

“You’re not keeping this cat in your room, are you?” Edelgard asked. 

Caspar flushed a bright red. “I didn’t want the suspect to escape back into the pantry at night!”

“Well, looks like we solved the mystery of the grumpy boys,” Dorothea said. “I’ve heard nothing but _cats, cats, cats_ from Ferdie all week.

“Well, clearly, it’s not the pantry that they’re after,” Claude said, trying to pull the conversation back to a productive path. “But we may want to look for other areas that they will attack.”

“What if it’s the green house!” Ashe exclaimed. “There are many valuable plants stored there.”

“I do not think that anyone would want to rob the green house,” Dedue deadpanned.

“All _brilliant, wonderful_ suggestions,” Claude said, dripping with sarcasm. “But here’s a better idea. We all split up. Talk to the monks and the knights. Find out what is valuable around Garreg Mach. In a week, we’ll get back together and discuss our leads. And Highnesses?” He winked. “Don’t be afraid to get your hands dirty on this one.” 

“I wish to investigate this mysterious figure in the town,” Dimitri said boldly. Edelgard flinched. She was hoping to take care of that herself, to lead them away from Jeritza. “Perhaps the Blue Lions could handle that part of the mission.”

Other opportunities presented itself, however.

“The Black Eagles can handle the Cathedral,” Edelgard said. “There are many relics and treasures stored there. Perhaps it is something there that is causing alarm.”

“Very well. I guess that leaves the archives and the treasury for the Golden Deer,” Claude said. His smile made Edelgard uneasy. It was almost as though this was what he wanted all along.

* * *

Edelgard had been to the cathedral many times, but she had never really taken the opportunity to study it. As she stepped out into the transept, she found herself lost in awe of the details of the place: the columns rising to dizzying heights, the prismatic glimmer of light through stained glass, the ornate moldings on the altar and walls.

“Now what do we think that they could be looking for here?” Dorothea asked. Her voice echoed, and a nun quickly shushed her.

“I am not much understanding Fódlan religion,” Petra said. “But perhaps it is the Saints that you are praying to. They are living here, are they not? Perhaps they will be stealing them.”

“The Saints aren’t the statues,” Dorothea said. “And I don’t think anyone is hauling off a statue.”

“Oh man, there’s probably all sorts of valuable stuff in here,” Caspar said. “What if they’re planning to steal all the gold and then sell it?”

Edelgard sighed. She knew exactly where to go. The door to the Holy Mausoleum was in the back of the Cathedral.

"I worry it’s not an item that they’re after.” Dorothea was looking at Edelgard. “I don’t mean to worry you, but there was an attempt on your life earlier this semester. What if they’re trying to go after you again?”

“Aw, Edelgard doesn’t have anything to worry about,” Caspar said. “She’s super strong, and besides, I’m here to protect her!”

Edelgard smiled. How little they knew of what was really going on. She wanted to reassure them that she was not the one in danger, but there was no way of doing that yet. She felt a small pang. When all was said and done, would they forgive her for lying to them this whole time?

“Ah, Professor Byleth is also making an investigation,” Petra said. Alarmed, Edelgard walked over to Petra. Byleth stood at the door to the Holy Mausoleum, speaking to a knight.

“It’s only open on the day of the Rite of the Rebirth,” said the knight. Byleth absorbed the information without any hint of expression. “The tomb of Seiros is down there but—” The knight lowered his voice, “the Church doesn’t keep any of their really valuable stuff here. Even the treasury is a decoy. They say that the real Tombs are elsewhere, sealed by powerful magic.”

Edelgard swallowed. Now that was interesting intel.

“And where are these tombs?” Byleth asked.

“No one knows,” the Knight said. “It is all very secretive, you see. There are extensive catacombs below the monastery that only the Cardinals have access to, and no one really knows the identities of the Cardinals either.”

Byleth turned to see Edelgard standing there.

“My teacher, are you investigating the threat as well?” Edelgard asked.

Byleth nodded. She quickly thanked the knight and walked towards Edelgard.

“Do you think that they could be going after the Holy Mausoleum?” Dorothea asked. “If it is only open on the day of the Rite of Rebirth, it would make sense that the assassination attempt would happen on that day.”

“I don’t get it,” Caspar said. “What would they want with a bunch of old bones?”

“Especially if what that knight said is true, there may be nothing down there,” Edelgard said. She did not like how easily they surmised the true target. “Besides, the Holy Mausoleum will still be heavily guarded, won’t it Professor?”

Byleth’s wallowing eyes pored over Edelgard. “It may not be. All of the attention seems to be on protecting Rhea.”

“If there was truly anything powerful in the Mausoleum, they would probably make sure to protect it,” Dorothea said.

Byleth shook her head. “From what I’ve been told, the Church uses magic to protect many of their artifacts. They may be counting on the magic seals to guard it, rather than wasting human labor.”

“Is this magic really that strong?” Edelgard asked.

“We learned about protection wards in Hanneman’s seminar,” Dorothea said. “He said that the Church uses some of the most powerful magic in Fódlan to protect their secrets. It scared me honestly. He said that much of the magic is undetectable; there are many places in Garreg Mach that we would never realize have magic seals on them.”

Edelgard knew very little about magic. Arundel had never encouraged her to study it, preferring her to master the axe so that she could wield Aymr one day. She would have to ask Hubert what he knew about such things; he had taken Hanneman’s seminar too. Perhaps he could explain more about it.

“I think there is something down there,” Byleth said. “There would be no need to close the Mausoleum to visitors if there wasn’t. I’m just not sure what it is that they could after in the tomb.” 

“Perhaps, but the Knight did say that there were catacombs below the monastery,” Edelgard said. “I’ve heard about the tunnels and the networks. Do you think there is something hidden down there that they are after?”

“How do you even get down there?” Caspar asked.

“Sylvain says that there’s all sorts of mysterious tunnels, if you know where to look,” Dorothea said. “He claims he found one in the Goddess Tower. That would be very close to the Holy Mausoleum.”

“How is Sylvain knowing of these—”

“Don’t ask why he knows these things, Petra,” Dorothea said. “You’ll just be disappointed.”

* * *

“You look exhausted,” Edelgard said, when Hubert came into her room the next morning to help her before breakfast. The lines around his eyes were more prominent than usual, and his skin had a gray cast to it.

“Are you aware that Caspar is keeping a cat in his room?”

“Yes,” Edelgard said. “I’m going to talk to him about it.” Hubert made a noise of disdain.

“Your Uncle sends his regards.” Hubert passed the letter and tomes to Edelgard to peruse. She skimmed through the letter, huffed, and then glance over a few pages of the tomes before giving up.

“Does any of this make sense to you?”

“No,” Hubert said. “But I will not surrender so easily on this matter.”

“I’ve heard of the Nabateans,” Edelgard said. “According to Arundel, they are the children of the Fell Star. I believe he once referred to Rhea as a Nabatean, but if that’s true, then that means she’s centuries old.”

“They seem to want her blood then,” Hubert said. “Perhaps that’s the true meaning behind this assassination.”

"No,” Edelgard said. “I don’t think Arundel truly believes that the assassination will succeed. He’s too focused on the Mausoleum. This is something bigger.” She committed the letter to memory before burning it in her candle.

“Milady, may I take possession of these tomes?” Hubert asked. “I will make it my duty to understand them.”

“Very well,” Edelgard said. “I am hopeless with that sort of thing. Part of me wonders now if my uncle’s refusal to have me learn magic is because he wants to keep me in the dark.”

“That should not prove a concern so long as I am around,” Hubert said. “Translating these will become my priority.”

“Not yet,” Edelgard said. “We still have to see the Rite of Rebirth through. Claude has asked us to investigate, and I’ve volunteered the Black Eagles to investigate the Cathedral.”

“A wise decision.”

“Dorothea said that there be a tunnel in the Goddess Tower that goes to the Mausoleum,” Edelgard said. “I would like for us to investigate it. Arundel requires our intel on the matter, and he wants to see if there’s another way into the Mausoleum.”

“We will have to go at night,” Hubert said. “Too many people around during the day.”

“Yes,” Edelgard said. “And in the meantime, make sure that Jeritza stays out of trouble?”

It took a few nights before they were ready to sneak out. Sneaking towards the Goddess Tower took more skill and patience than Edelgard anticipated, but once they reached the base of the tower, they found that no one patrolled that side of the Cathedral. Of course, perhaps the knights didn’t know about this tunnel.

According to Seteth, the Goddess Tower was off-limits. Forbidden. Locked. Protected.

Or so they told them. In reality, the lock gave way easily to a standard door key, and the door didn’t even creak as they opened it. Inside smelt of must and mold. On the ground was a tattered, forgotten scarf in the mustard hue of the Golden Deer. In another corner was a discarded glove.

“This seems to be a popular place for trysts,” Hubert said disdainfully.

“I thought that couples were only supposed to gather here on the evening of the annual ball,” Edelgard said. “At least, if they want the blessing of the Goddess.”

“Milady, I do not think most people come here to receive the blessing of the goddess,” Hubert said. A flight of stairs wound around the shell of the building. “Shall we go up?”

“No, it must be downstairs,” Edelgard said. Hubert sparked a small orb of fire to light their way as Edelgard passed around the room. “It must be obvious enough that Sylvain stumbled upon it, but not so much that it wouldn’t be a secret.”

They passed around the chamber, knocking and testing and examining the stonework.

“Here, listen.” She knocked on the stonework. “It’s hollow.” Hubert inspected the wall. He found a crack that ran straight up between the masonry. Following the grooves in the wall, he soon outlined the shape of a door. Edelgard patted the wall. A loose stone wriggled in a socket.

“Wait, milady.” Hubert tested the wall for protective wards first. He found traces of magic lingering, but the wards had long expired. The Church seemed to have forgotten about this one. 

Once it was safe, Edelgard took a deep breath. Her crests clicked awake, and power surged through her muscles as she pushed the heavy stone in wards. Stone grated on stone as the door slid into the wall. Clouds of dust billowed from the empty tunnel.

Hubert took a few cautious steps into the tunnel. The flame in his hand shrunk back the shadows, but the tunnel stretched on longer than he could see.

“Milady, are you—” He paused. Edelgard stood at the entrance, sucking in heavy breaths. Her fists were clenched.

“I need a moment,” she said. The tunnels reminded her of the corridors that snaked beneath Enbarr. There were probably rats running wild through these halls. The darkness was overwhelming and complete.

"Would you like to stay here?”

“No,” Edelgard said. “I must do this.” She approached him slowly. Her breathing grew more labored. She kept staring at the ground, waiting for a rat to run out.

Hubert bit his lip. Nervously, he reached forward and took her hand. She glanced up at him questioningly.

“Forgive my boldness,” he said. “I just thought…well, when you were scared to go into the cellar as children it helped.” If it wasn’t so dark, Edelgard knew she would find him blushing.

“Yes, just like when were kids.”

The lies they told each other.

The tunnel slanted downwards into the earth. They followed it as it twisted and wound around. The air grew much colder the lower they traveled. Finally, they reached a heavy stone door.

The flame in Hubert’s hand extinguished suddenly. Edelgard flinched. Impenetrable darkness surrounded them. Without thinking, she pressed closer to Hubert.

“There’s a silence ward on this door,” Hubert said. “I think I can break it though.” Hubert released Edelgard’s hand. He was lost to her in the darkness, so she reached out until she could feel the scratchy wool of his coat, and she clung to him as he worked.

His hands pressed against the door. Through his body, a tremor of magic buzzed. Goosebumps raced up Edelgard’s arms. The muscles in Hubert’s torso clenched as he pressed against the door, tendrils of purple light curling like smoke from his palms. An electrifying shock jolted through his body, pushing Edelgard backwards.

A second later, Hubert had a flame safely in his hands again.

“Let’s go.” He was breathing heavily.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, but I will not be able to use that spell again for a while,” he said.

The door opened to a balcony overlooking the Holy Mausoleum. Ethereal braziers lit the room with blue light. Edelgard could see the tomb from here. A mechanism in the wall released a staircase down the balcony.

“Do you think that your Uncle’s soldier should make use of this entrance?” Hubert asked.

“It will be more suspicious getting people in through the Goddess Tower,” Edelgard said. “They should stick with their plan of disguising themselves as pilgrims. But we should make sure that Jeritza is assigned to guarding the Tower that day. I want him overseeing this mission for me.”

“Very well. I will ensure that is notified,” Hubert said. “We will notify him of this entrance. Surely, it will attract less attention than the main entrance.”

Edelgard passed around the tombs. She could see the Tomb of Seiros on its high altar at the head of the room. The air trembled with magic. As she approached, she felt waves of heat radiate over her. When she grew too close, the air sparked and singed her hands. Quickly, she retreated.

Hubert took her hands in his, and with a soft glow of white, the pain faded, leaving only a bright red mark to remind her.

“That magic is more powerful than anticipated,” Hubert said. “I suppose we ought to warn Arundel.”

“I think we have learned what we needed,” Edelgard said. “I will pass this information onto my uncle.”

“Are you ready to return then, milady?”

Edelgard nodded. Her fears had alleviated if only slightly. The knowledge that the tunnel emerged into an open room and not into endless, claustrophobic tunnels reassured her.

The other side was not nearly as safe as they anticipated, however. Wandering back down the dark corridor, they heard voices murmur on the other side. Someone was in the Goddess Tower. 

“Why was the door to the Goddess Tower left open?” It was Seteth’s voice.

“Allow me to investigate, Seteth,” Manuela said. “It’s probably just some dumb kids out again.”

“I do not understand why they are all so fascinated with this place,” Seteth said. “I will—”

“Rhea has called for you. Leave this to me,” Manuela said.

Hubert drew Edelgard further back into the tunnel. He wondered how he could close the door from this side. There was no mechanism to hide them. If they went too deep into the tunnel and Manuela followed, that would invite even more questions.

The click of Manuela’s shoes echoed against the stones. A sweep of firelight from her torch illuminated the room. Hubert pressed Edelgard to the wall, standing silently. Her fingers curled against his chest. He wondered if he should go out alone, take all the blame, or—

Manuela paused at the mouth of the tunnel. “This place is a death trap,” she mumbled to herself. She took a careful step into the tunnel. “I swear, if these kids have found another hidden chamber—” Hubert and Edelgard slid further down the tunnel, but their feet stumbled and made too much noise. Manuela’s pace quickened. “All right, come on out—what!”

They met her eyes. The floor fell out under Edelgard’s feet.

“Manuela! What is it?” Seteth called in.

Manuela called out the tunnel: “Are you still out there! It’s nothing! Just some empty bottles! The kids were drinking out here again.” She turned back to Edelgard and Hubert and hissed, “ _My office. First thing. Tomorrow.”_

* * *

They survived the night, but Edelgard wasn’t certain they would survive their meeting with Manuela. They met outside the infirmary just after the breakfast bell rang. Their eyes met silently, both preparing for whatever hell Manuela would visit upon them.

Edelgard took deep breaths before she knocked on the infirmary door. Manuela called them in. She sat behind her desk, legs propped up, a cold cloth over her eyes. Peeking out under the rag, she sighed loudly. 

“Sit down both of you,” she said sternly. “And close the door.” 

They complied quietly.

“You are both very lucky that it was me and not Seteth that found you last night,” Manuela said, more firmly than Edelgard had ever heard her before. “Security is at an all-time high. There has been a threat of assassination against the archbishop, and you’re off gallivanting after curfew in the Goddess Tower, of all places.”

“It will not happen again,” Edelgard said. “We are very sorry.”

“ _Sorry_? Things are bad, Edelgard,” Manuela said. “Every single Knight of Seiros is being recalled across Fódlan. It will soon get to the point that being a dumb kid will no longer work as an excuse, especially if you are found skulking around the Cathedral.”

“I realize that,” Edelgard said. “We admit our mistake.” 

“Mmhm, and what mistake was that?”

“We became overzealous in our investigation of the assassination attempt,” Hubert said. “We are all concerned about the wellbeing of the archbishop.”

“Oh please,” Manuela said, rubbing her temples. “I know exactly what the two of you were doing out there.” Edelgard’s breath caught in her throat. “Look, I’m not your enemy here. In fact, if you would let me, I can be your ally.” 

What was Manuela saying? A strange thought occurred to Edelgard: was Manuela her uncle’s spy? Edelgard would have ever pinned it on her, but the Professor’s subtle hints made her pulse race. She glanced over at Hubert. He looked as if he was ready to spring an attack on Manuela.

“All I urge is caution,” Manuela said. “The Church is deadly serious about this threat. Do what you must, but for the love of the goddess, keep it in your pants until after the Rite of Rebirth.” 

Hubert choked audibly. Edelgard’s face turned bright red. She wanted to sink down into her chair, and then into the floor, and then perhaps into the earth itself.

“Professor, I believe you have the wrong idea about us,” Hubert stammered. 

“Oh really? You think you’re the first ones to use that ‘investigation’ line on me this month?” Manuela said. “Well, rest assured, the assassin won’t be found down Sylvain’s trousers.” She slapped her forehead. “Oh goddess. I shouldn’t have said that.”

She leaned forward, head on her hand. “Let’s start over: it is natural to have urges, and I get it. The dorms are not exactly romantic or private, and the goddess tower is, and all that. And any other month, the worst you would be risking is Seteth catching you. But this is serious and not worth it.” 

“I hope you understand the gravity of such an accusation against the Imperial Princess,” Hubert growled.

Manuela rolled her eyes. “I would do nothing that risks the reputation of either the Imperial Princess or yourself, _Lord Hubert_. I understand that you are probably engaged to other people or your guardians disapprove or something about crests—I’ve heard it all before from you noble types. My concern with my students is their safety.”

“This is preposterous,” Hubert said. “A slander against—”

Manuela slapped her hands against the desk. “That’s it. Get out, Hubert. I will continue this conversation with Edelgard.”

“I must protest—”

“Out!”

Hubert left the room fuming. Edelgard slunk down in her seat. There was nothing between her and Manuela now.

But as with most things, Edelgard realized she could use this to her benefit.

“Professor, you really won’t tell anyone about this, will you?” Edelgard asked softly. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She tried to play the embarrassed, lovelorn student—an act that was not too far from the truth.

“I haven’t told anyone yet, have I? I have noticed it, you know. You two tend to come and go frequently from campus on ‘official’ business.” She raised her eyebrows. “That might work on Hanneman and Seteth, but I’m bit sharper when it comes to these things.” 

How simple it was. Manuela provided her with a mortifying if effective guise for their actions. If Manuela thought they were merely lovelorn students and if she was as willing to protect her students as she stated, she might prove an unwitting ally. She would excuse their disappearances and shield them from Seteth’s puritanical wrath. Furthermore, Edelgard was not eager to fight the claim and reveal the real reason they were exploring the tunnel.

“Look,” Manuela said, “I’ll tell you what I tell most students I catch anywhere near the Cathedral. Bad idea. Seteth patrols at midnight exactly for that reason.” She sighed and waved a hand. “I’m not saying you are or are not doing anything, and I’m certainly not encouraging it, but I need to know. Are you being safe?”

Edelgard frowned. “We are hardly in danger—”

Manuela sighed. “That’s not what I meant. Edelgard, I think it is time for us to have a very honest, very _educational_ chat.”

While Edelgard survived the meeting, she wasn’t certain that she could ever look at Manuela in the eye again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to all of the bizarre ideas the students had about the true target of the assassins during this level. Also, I swear the cat plotline is going somewhere, and it's not just because Ashe and Caspar have the best supports in the game.


	11. Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard must bide her time while Byleth and the Golden Deer investigate the Holy Mausoleum. When Byleth discovers the Sword of the Creator, Edelgard must deal with another wrench in her plans. Yet opportunities will present themselves for Edelgard to demonstrate her ability to lead.

The Black Eagles were not assigned to the Holy Mausoleum. No, Professor Byleth _insisted_ that the Golden Deer investigate. Edelgard had tried to volunteer, but the Black Eagles were needed elsewhere. They ended up patrolling the front gates of the monastery, barely seeing a hint of action. 

Edelgard would have tried to sneak away to the secret passage in the Goddess Tower, but after Manuela caught her and Hubert, she specifically assigned Edelgard to patrol the bailey with Linhardt and Dorothea, while Hubert waited at the front gates with Ferdinand and Caspar. It was perhaps too risky to slip away. So instead, she merely waited.

Edelgard tried to steel her nerves, but knowing that she couldn’t participate in a very important event that would likely steer the course of her future—well, suffice to say, she was anxious.

“Stop fidgeting, Edie,” Dorothea said, as they walked the bailey together. Without the traffic of the marketplace, an unusual silence clung to the place. “I’m sure everything will be fine.”

Of course, everyone thought she was concerned for the archbishop. Edelgard couldn’t afford to express her true concerns.

“I’m sure Professor Byleth has everything under control,” Dorothea added. Of course, _Byleth_. Byleth who had scooped her on yet another mission. Byleth who would be confronting Jertiza, possibly even at this very moment. If anyone could interfere with her plans, it was mysterious Professor Byleth.

“I feel useless out here,” Edelgard said.

“Better useless than dead,” Dorothea said. “Do you really think they were going after the Holy Mausoleum?”

_Yes._

“I’m not sure,” Edelgard said. “The whole thing is certainly unusual, but I have confidence that Professor Byleth and the Golden Eagles will solve the case yet again.”

“Hey now, I think we’re pretty good too,” Dorothea said. “It’s just that the prof is Rhea’s pet.”

“Isn’t that odd?” Edelgard said. “Why would Rhea allow a strange mercenary, who is barely older than any of the students, to become a professor immediately? And now give this professor missions that would normally be reserved for knights?” 

“It’s because of her crest,” said a sleepy voice behind them. They spun around.

“Linhardt, how long have you been there?” Dorothea asked.

“I was told to patrol the bailey with you,” Linhardt said.

“You fell asleep on the steps,” Edelgard said.

“Only dozed off, and when I woke up, you were gone.” He sighed and yawned again. “Anyways, Professor Hanneman has been researching Byleth’s crest.”

“Professor Byleth has a crest?” Edelgard said.

“Yes, indeed,” Linhardt said. “Now, this part is bit of a mystery. Hanneman didn’t recognize the crest; in fact, his instruments only detected what seemed like part of a crest. So he’s been having me look up different crests to see if we can piece together its true nature. If Hanneman is correct, then Byleth’s crest might be so unusual, so strong even, that normal instruments cannot detect it.”

“So the Professor may have a previously unidentified crest?” Dorothea said.

“Yes, wouldn’t that be fascinating?” Linhardt stroked his chin. “That would explain why the Professor is so powerful.”

“How would Rhea be able to recognize her crest immediately?” Edelgard asked. Linhardt shrugged.

“Catherine is able to tell someone’s crest just by looking at them,” Linhardt said. “Lysithea said Catherine correctly guessed her crest without any instruments at all. Maybe Rhea has that power.”

“Since when you do you talk to Lysithea?” Dorothea asked.

“Since I started studying her. But that’s not really relevant right now. I bet you that once we find Byleth’s crest, we will—”

Edelgard silenced him with a hand. Shouts echoed from the direction of the Cathedral. Dorothea’s eyes widened, and her hand flew to her mouth. The shouting intensified, joined by the heavy clash of weapons. Knights rushed past the students.

A maddening flare erupted from inside Edelgard. She almost broke into a run, ready to follow the knights and witness the event for herself, but Dorothea grabbed her.

"We were told to stay our positions,” Dorothea said.

Edelgard bit her cheek in frustration. Her role was not to fight this time. She could only wait and watch. _Again._

* * *

That night, after they trooped back to the dorms, no one slept. Knights were still racing around the campus, but Seteth ordered the students to bed. Since no one was really enforcing curfew, everyone eventually navigated to the second-floor hallway to hear Claude retell the events of that evening in his typical dramatic fashion.

Claude stood on top of a desk chair, so that he could recite his story to the whole hall. “Teach and I deduced that they were going to invade the Holy Mausoleum, and as it turns out, we were right. These Western Church mages had disguised themselves as pilgrims, and once inside, they mercilessly slaughtered the guards. They were trying to break into the Tomb of Seiros, but once inside, they found no body, but a sword!”

A sword? Edelgard did not know what that meant.

Claude allowed for a dramatic pause before declaring with a swoop of his arms, “The Sword of the Creator!”

Eyes widened. Gasps erupted from the crowd. Mr. Burglar meowed loudly as Annette pressed him to her chest.

“The sword that Nemesis wielded when he fought against Seiros?” Edelgard said. “That same sword?”

“One and the same,” Claude said. “Turns out that these mages were pretty shocked by that too, but teach handled it like a pro. She disarmed the mage and as the sword went flying, she caught it.” Claude mimed the motion with a swing of his arm. “Suddenly, the word glowed bright red—like a flame—and she took out the mage in on swoop.” 

Delphi was dead. Edelgard could only hope that his guise worked and that they believed he worked for the Western Church. Edelgard felt no emotion at his passing; if anything, there was relief. One less crony of her Uncle’s to interfere with her life.

“Now here is where it gets really interesting,” Claude said. “The sword lacked a crest stone.”

“How is that possible?” Linhardt asked. “It’s impossible to wield a relic without a crest stone.”

“It is possible that her crest is compatible,” Dimitri said.

Edelgard digested the news slowly. This was something she had not expected—not in her wildest dreams. If she could wield the sword of the creator, that must mean that she had Nemesis’ crest—the Crest of Flames. But Nemesis left no kin, no bloodline to inherit his crest. So how did the professor get it?

Edelgard of course knew of one possibility. After all, she too bore the Crest of Flames. Hers had been implanted—flesh pried open, crest soldered to her organs, wounds cauterized with magic.

She pinched herself to shake off the memories. She could not afford to lose her cool here. Linhardt’s words returned to her: the Crest was why the Professor was so powerful.

 _If the Crest of Flames gives the Professor her power, perhaps she’s not so invincible after all_ , Edelgard thought. _After all, I too bear the Crest of Flames. That makes us evenly matched._

For the first time in months, Edelgard felt strong.

* * *

“We must do something about that cat.”

Breakfast the next day was sparse. Classes had been canceled for the week, and most of the students elected to sleep in. But neither Hubert nor Ferdinand were sleeping much these days. Nor, did it seem to either of them, did Mr. Burglar, who spent each night thumping, yowling, scratching, and skittering. How Caspar slept through it baffled both of them.

The situation had degraded to the point where Ferdinand was pleading Hubert for help. Hubert, meanwhile, decided to solve the disturbance with his third cup of coffee, which managed to keep him awake despite his sour mood.

“I’m not so much concerned about the cat as I am about the hordes of shrieking girls that it seems to attract,” Hubert said. After the crowd had dispersed the previous night, Hilda, Annette, and Lysithea all gathered in Caspar’s room to play with the cat. They stayed until the early hours of the morning.

“We shall procure a new home for the cat,” Ferdinand said. “Surely there must be someone willing to adopt the creature.”

“Why bother going through so much trouble? The cat lived outside before, and I suspect the cat will be happier outside. We should just let it go.”

“Because it feels…unethical to release the cat. Surely if we provide it with a more stable domestic situation, Caspar will acquiesce to surrendering the cat.”

“If you are so certain of this plan, what do you need me for?”

"To assist me with this task, which will provide us with a mutual benefit,” Ferdinand said. “To identify suitable caretakers and convince Caspar to release the animal into their care.”

Hubert rolled his eyes. “Do as you will.”

“So you will not relent to helping me? You would rather persist without sleep instead of relinquishing your pride and agreeing to my plan?”

“No. I will simply wait for Caspar to exit his room and then leave the door open, as we previously discussed.” 

“I cannot believe the two of you!” Both men turned. Annette was standing there, hands on her fist, her face almost as red as her hair. “How can you scheme to get rid of Mr. Burglar like that! Poor Caspar—and poor Ashe! It’s his cat too, you know.”

“See? Your plan will fail,” Hubert said, as Annette stormed away. “You will have to get both Ashe and Caspar to consent to surrendering the cat.”

“Hmph, we will discover a solution to the satisfaction of everyone. In the meantime, I will ensure that you will not release that poor, helpless creature out in the wild.”

“And how will you do that?”

“I shall tell Edelgard what devious designs you have on that cat.”

Hubert shrugged. “I cannot stop you.” 

“No, but she can, correct?”

In reality, Hubert could not care less. The lack of sleep was a mere distraction to the larger issue at stake here. Hubert continued to sip his coffee, ruminating over the events of the previous night. He didn’t have a chance to discuss what had happened with Edelgard yet, but he could feel the nervous energy radiating off of her.

The Sword of the Creator was a surprise indeed. He wondered if Arundel had known what truly hid in the tomb all along. If that was the case, Edelgard would not have been pleased to learn that he continued to keep secrets. On the other hand, he doubted that even Arundel could predict that a mere professor had the ability to wield the sword without a crest.

“Ah, Edelgard, there you are,” Ferdinand said. Hubert turned to see Edelgard arrive. He could tell by the dark bags under her eyes that she hadn’t slept much either. “Hubert here is scheming to surreptitiously release the poor beast without finding it another home.”

“Sounds like Hubert,” Edelgard said.

“Well? Do you not wish to chastise him for this inhumane gesture?”

Edelgard sighed. “Hubert, please leave poor Ferdinand alone. You are distressing him.”

Hubert cracked a smirk. “As you wish, milady.”

“That is hardly my meaning,” Ferdinand scoffed. “Perhaps you ought to mediate this issue with Caspar. As head of Black Eagles and our future Emperor, you must learn to arbitrate disputes between your ministers.”

“As you are the future Prime Minister, should I not delegate such matters to you?” Edelgard asked.

Ferdinand’s face fell. Edelgard felt a certain pleasure in catching Ferdinand in his own trap. “Very well. I shall attempt again to speak reason to Caspar. _Again_.” He gathered up his place and utensils, leaving in a huff.

“That was excellently handled,” Hubert said.

“Oh please. I do not require so much empty praise, Hubert.” Her voice eked of exhaustion.

“I never offer anything but genuine praise. It often takes me twice as long to chase Ferdinand off,” Hubert said.

“Is the cat really a problem?”

“It is not anything I cannot—” He paused with a great yawn, “handle myself.” Edelgard sighed. She wanted to avoid any suggestions that would cause further scandal, but at the same time, it was a tempting idea to take him back her quarters for a well-needed nap.

But as usual, there were other things to worry about.

“I have had word from my Uncle,” Edelgard said softly. “He wants an immediate report, tonight.”

“Very well, milady. I shall be at your disposal.”

* * *

The woods sang with the chorus of frogs and crickets at the brink of dusk. A preternatural chill overtook the fort as Edelgard and Hubert passed through the veil of magic.

“Hubert, I should speak to him alone,” Edelgard said. “He is likely to be angry, and I do not want to risk you.”

“Better that he should take his anger out on me than you,” Hubert said.

“He will not touch me,” Edelgard said. She squeezed his hand before descending into the croft. Too tired to fight, Hubert merely nodded and waited outside. 

Arundel was pacing around the croft, his hands clenched so tightly behind his back, the veins popped below the skin. “The archbishop lives. Not that I had ever placed much faith in those swine from the Western Church.”

That was it. No greeting. No tidings. Just business.

Edelgard nodded. “I have news, both good and bad. The remains of Seiros were not in the tomb. However, something else was. The Sword of the Creator.”

Arundel frowned, and his brow collapsed deep in thought. “Ah, the weapon wielded by that thief, the King of Liberation.”

_Thief? That was an odd thing to say._

Edelgard continued: “At any rate, it is now in the hands of the academy's new professor. I doubt you will be surprised to hear that the Crest Stone had already been removed from the sword when it was found.”

Arundel nodded deeply. “Hmph. As expected. It would be foolish to keep both in the same location.”

“There's more.” Edelgard took a deep breath. How was she going to explain this to him? “The new professor was able to awaken the sword's true power. She killed Delphi with the sword. Even without the Crest Stone, the sword glowed red. The professor's Crest is compatible. There is no mistaking it.”

For a moment, Edelgard saw true surprise flicker across Arundel’s face. He quickly regained composure. “Absurd. Using a Relic without its Crest Stone should be impossible... The King of Liberation's bloodline should not even... Hmm.” His hands clenched, and he began to pace again.

“The Professor must be allowed to keep it, for now,” Edelgard said.

“Why?”

“I do not have enough information about the professor to act,” Edelgard said. “If the Professor bears the Crest of Flames, then she may prove to be a valuable ally or a dangerous enemy. Making a move on the relic so soon after our failed invasion of the Tomb will only risk our position. We must further investigate this professor, and if possible, sway her to our side.”

Arundel nodded. “Very well. I agree.” Edelgard could not help but feel a swell of pride. It was as if she finally had earned solid footing with Arundel. “We must move forward onto our next venture, anyways. This one will require more delicacy. You will like this one. You shall play a bigger part.”

Edelgard swallowed. “Tell me.”

“I assume you have received our materials,” Arundel’s lips curled back in sardonic glee. “Surely, you can guess.”

Edelgard pieced together the fragments pieces of information Hubert had gleaned from the arcane letter. “You require Nabatean blood to produce artificial crests.”

“Yes. And have you surmised where we will get that?” Edelgard’s mind raced through the possibilities. The assassination on Rhea had just failed, and it would be foolish to make another attempt so soon. With a lascivious grin, he taunted, “There’s an itty bitty Nabatean hiding in your monastery.”

“Who is it?”

“Are you familiar with a child that goes by the name of Flayn?”

Flayn? Edelgard had suspected Seteth, but for some reason, her mind had skipped over Flayn. Flayn was too young, too innocent, too overtly sweet. Perhaps she should have known. Edelgard considered all of the clues: her antiquated way of speaking, her inexperience with the outer world, her bizarre relationship with her brother…

“What are you going to do to her?” Edelgard felt a lump form in her throat. Had Arundel said Seteth was their target, she would have consented more easily. But Flayn was still a child. At least, she looked and sounded like one.

“Her blood shall provide what we need,” Arundel said.

“You wish to have the Death Knight abduct Flayn, don’t you?”

“Jeritza has access to certain subterranean areas in the Monastery,” Arundel said. “Next time Rhea sends Byleth on a mission, Jeritza should make his move. Take Flayn and hide her below the monastery.”

“What is my role in this?”

“This is your time to prove yourself,” Arundel said. “You have proven yourself with previous matters. It has done us no favors to keep you in the dark, and I am quickly realizing that you are our most powerful asset against this ‘professor.’ Your job will be to keep the professor off our trail.”

“You still require my permission to take command of the Death Knight,” Edelgard said.

“The power is in your hands.”

He traded her a taste of power in exchange for her continued obsequence. Arundel knew what she desired. Edelgard wasn’t sure what to feel; indeed, too many conflicting emotions bubbled up at once. Pride that she had succeed thus far, and fear that Arundel was still manipulating her. A sense of trepidation at this new plan, and a stronger desire to control what was happening in the monastery. Still, this was progress.

“Very well, the Death Knight is at your command. Use him well.”

“Good. I believe I will enjoy this a great deal.” Arundel smiled. “I hope you shall as well.”

Edelgard’s stomach twisted, and she wondered if she had made the right decision.

* * *

Edelgard found Hubert leaning against the ruined wall, his eyes shut and his chin rolled against his chest. He was dozing, she realized. Gently, she tapped his shoulder, and he awoke with a jolt.

“Is the cat situation really that bad?”

“I am fine, milady,” he murmured. “What did Arundel have to say?”

Edelgard briefed him on the situation. He rubbed his sore neck as she spoke.

“If what Arundel says is true, we cannot afford to feel sympathy for Flayn,” Hubert said. “If she is a Nabatean, that means she is complicit in the abuses of the Church. Her existence entails the subservience of humanity to the Nabateans.”

“It is frightening to consider how easily they blend into human society,” Edelgard said. “I never suspected her.”

“If Flayn is a Nabatean, that almost certainly means that Seteth is as well,” Hubert said. “Of course, it is natural that Rhea would surround herself with her own kind.”

“This will be a delicate procedure,” Edelgard said. “We must take care not to implicate ourselves in this affair.”

Hubert nodded. “I must admit, I worry about Byleth. She has upset our plans at every juncture.”

Edelgard nodded. “Which is why I have recommended that he make his move at the end of the month, when the Golden Deer will be out on their next mission.”

“Excellent, milady,” Hubert said. “You have a real tactician’s eye about you. Soon, you will no longer require my services.”

"Don’t flatter me, Hubert,” Edelgard said.

“That is one command, milady, I cannot abide.” 

Edelgard chuckled. Looking up at his gaunt face, she noticed more lines of exhaustion. His whole body slumped with the weight of his fatigue. Perhaps she couldn’t overpower her Uncle yet, but there were things that still remained within her control. 

“Come now, let us return. I have one more pressing issue I must attend to immediately.”

* * *

“I have brought you three here to discuss a matter of great import.” Edelgard summoned her strongest voice of authority.

Before her, Ashe and Caspar sat on Caspar’s bed, poor Mr. Burglar pinned between them. Ferdinand and Hubert watched the proceedings silently, arms crossed. The affair felt like a poor pastiche of court politics—she the Imperial Emperor with her Prime Minister and Minister of the Household looming behind her, as she sought to convene with two renegade knights.

“I have an important mission, and I believe that only Mr. Burglar will do for it.”

“You’re not taking him away,” Caspar said. “And Ferdinand is not allowed to find him another home.”

“Annette already told me that Hubert was going to release him,” Ashe said, with a dirty look towards Hubert.

“I am not suggesting either solution,” Edelgard said. “However, we do suffer from a rat infestation in these dorms, and Mr. Burglar is a cat. He needs space to roam, and hunting rats will give mental and physical stimulus to keep him happy.”

“So you’re saying…you want Mr. Burglar to be a dorm cat?” Ashe said.

“You cannot confine a cat to a single room,” Ferdinand said, exasperated.

“Hey, nobody asked you, Ferdinand!” Caspar leapt up, hot and ready to fight.

“I’m saying is that we should let him roam the dorms, and soon, he’ll be so comfortable that he will come and go as he pleases,” Edelgard said. “Everyone here loves him, and he’ll be able to explore and hunt and sleep. He can even visit everyone in their rooms.”

“He is not welcome in my room,” Hubert said.

“Well, then you can keep your door closed,” Edelgard said tersely. _Why did Hubert and Ferdinand insist on making this more difficult?_ _How did the two of them not understand that this was for their benefit?_ “How about it, boys?”

“Well, I guess it makes sense,” Ashe said. “I mean, I know you’re scared of rats, Edelgard.” Edelgard’s face warmed with embarrassment. “And if it makes you feel better to have a dorm cat, well, then I think Mr. Burglar is up for the job.”

“Yeah, it would like a promotion,” Caspar said. “How about it, Edelgard? Let’s make him Sir Burglar!”

“Yes, we must have a knighting ceremony for him!” Ashe said. “What a tale of redemption! From poor thief cat to knight cat!” They waited, staring at her expectantly.

Edelgard blinked. “Oh, you would like for me to actually knight him?” Both boys nodded. Edelgard summoned her courage. _Sometimes we must do things for the greater good—even when they are kind of silly._ “Very well.” She glanced around for something to knight the cat with and found an unused quill from Caspar’s desk. “I dub thee, Sir Cat Burglar.” Sir Burglar batted at the feather as she dabbed his little shoulders.

Ferdinand held the door open, and suddenly, Sir Burglar forgot the feather. He wriggled from the boys’ grasps, thudded to the ground, and scuttled out the door. They heard the pads of his feet furiously thump down the hall. Caspar and Ashe went to follow. They saw him corner Felix, and then—to everyone’s surprise—they saw Felix bend down and scratch behind his ears.

“I would have handled things a little differently,” Ferdinand said. “What if someone in the dorm dislikes cats or what if someone sets out rat poison and—”

“What if we relocate him to your room?” Hubert asked. “All in all, Lady Edelgard handled the situation diplomatically. Her solution was appropriate for the problem, and she cultivated good favor with both parties.”

“Stop it,” Edelgard said. “And go to bed. Both of you. You can argue in the morning when you’re both well-rested.”

Ferdinand, for once, did not fight. He quickly disappeared into his room. Hubert, however, lingered at his door.

“I was sincere in my belief that you handled the situation excellently,” Hubert said. “Like a true emperor.”

“It was a dorm cat,” Edelgard said. “Hardly a problem fit for an emperor.” Emperors had to deal with abductions and intrigues. Emperors had to assent to experimentation and assassinations. Emperors made difficult decisions about gods and crests, not cats or grumpy, sleepless men.

“Emperors must adjudicate both great and small matters,” Hubert said. “That you do not forget the little things speaks more of you than any great adventure.”

“I thought I told you to stop flattering me.”

“And I believe I told you that I would object to any such command.”

Edelgard rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. He also wore the tiniest of smiles as he bit his lip.

“Hubert?”

“Yes, milady?”

“Go to bed.”

He chuckled. “As you wish.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of fluff before things get dark again. And oh boy, will they get dark...


	12. Experiment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard chooses to follow Jeritza on the mission to kidnap Flayn, but what she discovers forces her to confront the weight of her own decisions.

Midnight struck the belltowers across town. Edelgard waited on the hill that overlooked the monastery. Behind the visor of the Flame Emperor, she could see the long shadows drawn out by the town’s streetlamps and the diffuse light of the moon above. Little else stirred, until the shadows themselves took shape and became solid.

Jeritza had arrived in armor blacker than the night itself. The disguises were necessary, lest someone intrude upon their secret meeting. Still, Edelgard yearned for the day when she no longer needed to hide herself behind steel and leather.

“I was told that I would be under Thales’ command.” Even through the thick-skulled helmet, Edelgard could hear the droll undertones of Jeritza’s voice.

“Yes, but that does not mean that you have stopped being my agent,” Edelgard said. “My word comes first, do you understand?”

“Naturally.”

“So what is it that you command?”

“Byleth and the Golden Deer shall be leaving this week for their next mission,” Edelgard said. “You have been briefed about your next duty, I presume?”

“I am taking the girl,” Jeritza said. “But I am not allowed to harm her.” His disappointment echoed from under his helmet.

“You shall perform the deed this week,” Edelgard said, “while Byleth is out of the monastery.”

“Very well. This one will be harder than last time,” Jeritza said. “I shall have to lure her out somehow. The child enjoys sweets, does she not? Perhaps some of that peach ice cream—”

“What do you mean by last time?” Edelgard asked sharply.

“Last year, when I first arrived, your Uncle had me take some Imperial noble girl,” Jeritza said. “Some baron was giving him trouble. She had some sort of crest, and he wanted her blood, all for himself.”

Edelgard grit her teeth. _How dare Arundel!_ How deep did his secrets run? 

“I suppose you are referring to the disappearance of Baron Och’s daughter.”

Jeritza shrugged. “She’s dead now. Her body was too frail. Let’s hope that Flayn puts up more of a fight.”

Edelgard swallowed her anger. “This time, I would like to join you. I am sick of passively watching.”

“I work alone,” Jeritza said.

“Flayn lives in the rectory, not far from Rhea herself,” Edelgard said. “She goes nowhere without Seteth watching her. You will need help with this one.”

“If you insist,” Jeritza said.

Hubert would have something to say about this, Edelgard was certain. He would probably protest her involvement, likely try to persuade her to stay out of her, lest she accidentally implicate herself. Still, Edelgard was tired of letting other people take the reins.

It was time for her to ascend.

* * *

_Would you join me for tea?  
~Byleth._

Hubert made a low hum when he read the note. “Are you considering going?”

“Of course,” Edelgard said. “This is a good moment for me to study the professor.” She was rifling through the library shelves, looking for anything that might yield more information about the Nabateans, but the shelves seemed more bare than usual. She could see several gaps where books had been taken, but by who?

“Be careful, milady,” Hubert said. “The Professor has such keen insight that it borders on precognition. Who knows what her intentions are?”

“From what I hear, Byleth has a habit of inviting different students to tea,” Edelgard said. “Her popularity owes to this habit, I suspect.”

Hubert grunted and shifted the books in his arms. “If anything, that makes her more dangerous.”

“Are you jealous, Hubert?” she teased.

“I am just being cautious.”

“It is possible to be too cautious, you know.”

“I would rather err on the side of excess, in this matter,” Hubert said.

“It is a social occasion,” Edelgard said. “An Emperor, you know, ought to be trained the arts of rhetoric and wit.”

“You are quoting Ferdinand,” Hubert said. “Now I am extremely concerned.”

Edelgard smiled. She slid another book onto the pile in his arms. “Take those back to my room, will you? I don’t want to be late for tea.”

Edelgard found Byleth in the pavilion outside of the dining hall. Byleth had already called for a tower of sweets and a kettle steaming with the earthy aroma of Hresvelg blend.

“I found this tea in the market, and it reminded me of you,” she said, pouring the tea. Edelgard thanked her. Hresvelg blend was a hearty black tea, the type she had been drinking all her life. “Are you sleeping better?”

Edelgard remembered Byleth catching her mid-nightmare. The embarrassment returned full force. “Oh, yes. I apologize for making you worry.” Byleth nodded. “I hear you are about to leave on a new mission. May I ask what it is for?”

“A relic has been stolen in Faerghus,” Byleth said. “We are going to retrieve it.”

Edelgard wondered if her Uncle had his fingers in this pot too. Or maybe it was Cornelia tinkering behind the scenes. All it seemed they wanted was more relics and crests and relics and crests.

“Please be careful,” Edelgard said. “Relics in the wrong hands can be dangerous. Of course, you probably know that already.” Edelgard stirred her tea. “If you don’t mind me asking, how exactly did you get your crest? The bloodline of Nemesis is supposed to be lost.”

Byleth slunk in her chair. For the first time, Edelgard saw a flicker of emotion pass through her brow—a furrow of frustration.

“I do not know,” she said with exasperated futility.

“I apologize,” Edelgard said. “You probably have heard that question too many times by now.”

“Seteth comes of a common line, and both him and Flayn have major crests,” Byleth said. “Yet no one bothers him with such questions.”

 _Yes, but he is a Nabatean._ Studying Byleth closely, Edelgard did not recognize any of the signs on her. Her ears were rounded, her hair dark blue, her accent normal.

“I admit, I am sick of people wanting to study me,” Byleth said. Edelgard filled with sympathy, so much so her frustration threatened to spill out in a tidal wave of secrets. But Byleth could never know that they shared the same curse.

“That is the way of life with a crest,” Edelgard said. “Your body is somehow no longer your own. You’re a weapon, a tool of the Church, a curiosity for the masses.”

Byleth’s posture loosened. “Hanneman has not left me alone, and even Linhardt keeps trying to swab my cheek.”

Edelgard laughed. “Linhardt tries to experiment on all the girls at the academy. Dorothea and I aren’t certain if that’s his way of flirting or if he’s really serious.”

“He’s going after Flayn, you know,” Byleth said. “If Seteth finds out—”

“Oh, goddess.” Edelgard slumped down in her seat. Just what she needed right now. If Linhardt implicated himself this mess, Edelgard wasn’t sure what she could do to save him. “And here I thought the worst of it was him trying to borrow Thunderbrand from Catherine.” Edelgard shook her head. “I suppose it’s time to involve Manuela.”

“If you would like, I can talk to him,” Byleth said. “I get so many complaints about Lorenz, I’ve basically got the speech memorized.”

“Good luck,” Edelgard said. “Be warned: he may ask for a hair sample in exchange for his compliance.”

Byleth laughed. It was such a surprising thing, her laugh. Edelgard realized that she had never heard it before; never had a smile broken from that stony face.

“You know, I really feel as though I could learn something from you,” Byleth said. Two surprises so soon: what in the world did Byleth mean by that? “You must think it odd. After all, I could go to Manuela or Hanneman or, forbid, Jeritza, but I feel as you understand me better. You’re not much younger than me, but you’re in such a position of authority already.”

“My authority is very weak compared to yours,” Edelgard said. “I am not Emperor. Merely a Princess. That makes me little better than a vassal in the palace.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Byleth said. “I hear you handled a situation involving a cat remarkably well.”

“I never saw so much trouble caused over a cat before,” Edelgard said. “Besides that’s not true authority. All I did was convince Caspar to let the cat out of his room sometimes.”

“Most people cannot imagine creating a compromise,” Byleth said. “Everyone is so rooted in their own beliefs, in the idea that their path is the only right path, that they cannot mediate between them.”

“Compromise works in small doses,” Edelgard said. “But sometimes, you must do radical things to effect radical change.”

“Yes, but with radical change comes radical instability,” Byleth said.

“The cat situation worked because no party was in the wrong,” Edelgard said. “The compromise caused no real harm on any side. But what happens when you must compromise with evil? Do you just give in, because it is the easiest way?”

“I often find that when avoiding one evil, people often put themselves in the path of another,” Byleth said. Edelgard flinched. For some reason, that criticism felt particularly pointed. 

“And I find that sometimes people are so immobilized by their own fear of transgression that they become incapable of fighting any evil at all,” Edelgard said. How did this conversation suddenly become so heated? Just moments ago, they had been laughing over Linhardt’s experimentation. And now? “The world is a broken place. But if we worry about cutting ourselves on the shards, we will never be able to fix it.”

Byleth fixed her solid, penetrating gaze on Edelgard. A curious expression crossed her face. It was as though Byleth had dipped below the expanse of her own being, and all that remained were the placid, still waters on the surface.

The chime of the belltower snapped Byleth from her trance. She folded her napkin.

“Thank you for joining me for tea,” she said. “I have something for you, before you go.” She pulled from her bag a book. “I’ve seen you about in the library recently, and it occurred to me that you may not be finding what you’re looking for. Tomas tells me you’re particularly interested in political philosophy and history.”

Edelgard stared at the cover. The title was extensive, in the way that antique books often were: _The Secret History of Wilhelm Hresvelg, being a Treatise on the Origin of his Crest. With a Dissertation on the Nature of the Goddess and Seiros, reprinted 1094._ It was so old that the binding had begun to flake away, and many of the pages bore water stains.

“Where did you get this?” Edelgard asked.

“Don’t ask,” Byleth said. “I know Seteth has been culling books from the library. Claude has been trying to hoard whatever he can before Seteth takes it, and he’s apparently found a merchant who will sell him things like this.”

 _Claude_. Of course he was the one pulling books from the shelves.

“Thank you, my teacher,” Edelgard said. “I apologize if I offended—”

“Not at all,” Byleth said. “In fact, I prefer such honesty, even at the cost of disagreement.” She gathered up her things. “I am late for my seminar. Please let me know what you think of the book once you have finished it.”

Edelgard sat, pinned to her seat, dumbfounded and confused. The book at her lap promised to share many secrets, but the mystery around Byleth only deepened.

* * *

Several days later, Edelgard found Linhardt fishing by the pond. “May I join you?” she asked

“Depends, are you going to lecture me about classwork again?” Linhardt asked.

“No, I was going to ask about your crest research,” Edelgard said. Linhardt almost dropped his fishing pole in surprise. “After our discussion about Byleth, I was curious about what you were working on with Hanneman.”

Linhardt reeled up the pole and set it beside him. “Well, now that Hanneman has identified Byleth’s crest as the crest of Flames, he doesn’t have much need for me. This suits me fine, as I would rather pursue my own research anyways.”

“And what is your own research?” Edelgard said. “You said you were working with Lysithea right?”

“Ah, so that is what this is about,” Linhardt said. “No wonder you’re curious about that, seeing as you and her both share the same double-crests.”

Edelgard seized in alarm. “What in the world are you talking about?”

“Your hair. Your ‘mysterious’ medical condition without a name. The fact that you are unusually strong for someone who should only have a minor crest of Seiros.”

“That is an absurd idea,” Edelgard said. “It is impossible for someone to have two crests.”

“Yes, well, Lysithea had just about the same reaction as you,” Linhardt said. He tapped his chin. “I wonder, does having two crests make you evasive and stubborn? If I had two, I would be delighted. I don’t think I would be able to keep it a secret.”

 _You would if you knew the cost._ Edelgard began to ponder Lysithea’s own condition. Truthfully, she barely knew the girl, but she did have the same white hair as Edelgard.

“Anyways, now I’m trying to find a new subject. Did you know that Flayn has a Major Crest of Cethleann? It’s extremely rare. I myself only bear a minor crest of Cethleann. I was hoping that she would submit to some questions of mine.”

“Like what?”

“Well, for one, she has some remarkable similarities to Saint Cethleann, and I was thinking…what if a Crest gave you a personality that resembled your progenitor. For example, what if I struggle with detail-oriented work because I inherited that from Cethleann?”

“That is certainly an interesting proposition,” Edelgard said. “But I urge you to be careful around Flayn. Seteth is extremely protective—”

“Ah, so this is a lecture after all,” Linhardt said dismissively. “Flayn is her own person, you know. I see her sneaking out all the time.”

“How does she manage to do that?” Edelgard said. “I can’t imagine anyone getting past Seteth.”

Linhardt shrugged. “She breaks curfew all of the time. Her and Ignatz have been meeting up for some time now.”

“Ignatz?” Of all the people to be sneaking around with Seteth’s little sister…

“Yes, he’s painting her or something. Annoying, isn’t it, how he monopolizes her time? I’m looking forward to him being gone on this mission, so perhaps I can catch her attention on one of her midnight walks.”

Edelgard made a mental note to add Linhardt to her list of Garreg Mach mysteries, but his hobbies were not her concern right now. She got the information she needed.

“Well, I’m tired of talking,” Linhardt said unceremoniously. “I think I’m going to take a nap.” As he stood to leave, Edelgard caught his sleeve.

“You won’t tell anyone about my crests, will you?” she asked.

“Why would I?” Linhardt asked. “You know, I would be happy to make you my subject, if you were willing.”

“No.”

“Pity. Well, then I’m off.”

* * *

“I have successfully traced Flayn on her walks, per your orders, milady.” Hubert’s knuckles dug into her waist as he secured the tassets of her armor to her hips. “She has a habit of wandering into the ruins on the lower slopes of the monastery. There’s a stream down there that is said to be prime for night fishing. That is where I would meet her.”

“Thank you, Hubert.”

He paused at his task, his hands settling on the tassets at her hips. Edelgard wondered if he realized what he was doing.

“Milady, if I may—”

“Hubert, if you are about to tell me that you don’t want me going out on this mission, you can save your breath.” She heard a frustrated sigh escape him. “I take no joy in completing this task, but I must know where Jeritza is taking her. I must see for myself what they are doing.”

“I understand.” There was a bitter edge to his voice.

He resumed buckling her armor.

“If you would like to be useful,” Edelgard said, “perhaps you could sneak into Claude’s room and steal back some of those books he’s hoarding.”

“A poor use of my talents.”

“It’s Claude. His room is probably boobytrapped. You’re probably the one person who could make it safely inside.”

She meant it as a joke. His exasperated sigh told her he wasn’t in the mood.

“What is wrong, Hubert?”

“Nothing, milady.”

“ _Hubert_. Tell me.”

“I believe you instructed me to save my breath.”

“I do not understand why you are always so unconfident of my abilities,” Edelgard said. “Do you really think me so weak?”

“I do not worry because I fear you are weak. I worry because you are valuable.”

“Valuable, yes. That is precisely what Arundel would say too. I’m nothing but a tool in reserve.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Hubert said. “I would hope, milady, that you realize that I serve you out of personal devotion. When I say you are valuable, I…Never mind, milady. Forgive me. I have overstepped.”

“I want you to finish that sentence, Hubert.”

“It was a trifle. Beneath your notice.”

“Hubert, are you going to ignore a direct command from your liege?”

“Yes.”

Edelgard groaned. She didn’t have time for Hubert’s obstinance. She would be meeting Jeritza tonight. If all went well, they would have Flayn in their custody. Then Edelgard would follow Jeritza to wherever it was that they would be keeping her. Jeritza hardly cared if Edelgard followed him, but she knew that she might meet opposition from Arundel’s people.

“You should take this.” Hubert handed her a small vial.

“More poison? We’re not killing her.”

“It’s a sleeping tonic,” Hubert said. “She’s a Nabatean. Doubtless, she is more powerful than she looks. If she puts up too much of a fight, Jeritza might kill her.”

The idea alarmed Edelgard. Jeritza craved a challenge; the Death Knight that possessed his body demanded the sacrifice of strong and powerful victims.

“Put it on a rag and cover her nose,” Hubert instructed. “It will make it easier.”

“Thank you, Hubert,” she said.

* * *

The moon hung high in the sky when Edelgard met Jeritza behind the stables. Jeritza had donned the armor of the Death Knight again, horns rising in the dark like some demonic creature.

They didn’t speak. Jeritza just lifted his scythe, and Edelgard followed him as they found themselves wending towards the older parts of the monastery. Dark magic camouflaged their movement, and they barely saw a soul patrol the pathways of the monastery. At the midnight bell, they paused near an unused chapel, pulling the veil of shadows tighter over their armor.

Now, they waited.

Edelgard heard heavy breathing snort from Jeritza’s helmet. His fingers curled and recurled over the rod of his scythe. Edelgard remembered the night that she had found him, on his flight from House Bartels, still smeared with the blood of his father. 

_There are better ways to sate your bloodlust,_ she had told him. He had become her hunting dog, free to wander the fields and bring back her quarry. His loyalty was of a different sort than Hubert’s. In his lucid moments, Jeritza could appreciate Edelgard’s mercy, but when his mind dissociated and the Death Knight emerged, the bonds between them were transactional: she gave him victims to feed his frenzy and he, in turn, yielded to her commands. 

Time passed slowly. Jeritza’s breath grew ragged and uneven. He was impatient to begin his hunt. Edelgard could only hope that he remembered the command to bring her in alive.

“There,” he growled.

Flayn’s lantern bobbed in the night as she came down the slopes towards the chapel, her fishing pole bent against her shoulder. Humming contently, she walked past the chapel towards the stream. Edelgard took this moment to dump Hubert’s noxious concoction onto the handkerchief. The smell alone made her head swim.

“Move in,” Edelgard whispered.

A tug at the senses, a blur of black light, and Jeritza warped them behind Flayn. They landed softly—Flayn didn’t even turn until the Death Knight’s armor creaked.

She turned, but not before Jeritza grabbed her and clamped an iron hand over her mouth. The armor swallowed up Flayn’s scream. Her legs kicked uselessly against his chest plate, hollow dings echoing with every strike. With some difficulty, Jeritza wrestled her to the ground.

“She fights…” he grumbled, and Edelgard felt a note of alarm. “I want to see her struggle…”

Edelgard placed a hand on his gauntlets. Jeritza moved his hand to let her quickly press the cloth over Flayn’s nose and mouth. A glow of white magic suffused from Flayn’s hands and penetrated Edelgard’s armor, singing her skin with a cold fire. Gritting her teeth, Edelgard engaged her full strength to keep Flayn’s mouth covered. Hubert was right; Flayn was stronger than she had anticipated.

A few moments later, Flayn’s body went slack. Her head lolled against Jertiza’s chest plate

“A quick job,” Jeritza said. “Although I would have liked to see her at her full potential.” He threw her limp body over his shoulder. “Let us go.” Jertiza carried her back up the mountain.

Jeritza’s room occupied the farthest chamber in the quarters of the Knights of Seiros. He dumped Flayn into Edelgard’s arms before heaving against a bookcase with all his strength. Cold air billowed from a hole in the wall. 

“Where does it go?” Edelgard asked.

Jeritza began to descend. “You’ll see.”

Sconces flickered on the walls with a strange, magical glow. The air grew colder as they descended. At the bottom of the stairs, the room widened into a large chamber. The air tingled with preternatural vibrations. Edelgard wondered just how far these chambers extended. Had they always been there? What else dwelled in the mazes below the church?

“Your Uncle’s mages come in through the warp pads,” Jeritza told her. Edelgard saw the pads in question: stone apparatuses scrivened with metal glyphs.

Almost as soon as he said it, light burst from the warp pads. Mages flooded from the apparatus like rats from a burning building. They surrounded Jeritza, greedily grabbing at the girl.

“What are _you_ doing here?” said a girlish voice. Edelgard turned. The woman who spoke had hair the color of blood and a chalk-white complexion. The chief architect of this experiment, perhaps; some Agarthan clinician, trained to extract and transmute blood.

“I have brought the girl,” Edelgard said.

“Thales said nothing about you.” She sounded like a petulant child, although the black-steel relic at her hip told Edelgard not to let her guard down. 

“I am the Flame Emperor,” Edelgard said. Such words felt weak, but the Agarthan scientist flinched. “I shall remake the world in fire. Who is to say that I should not be here?”

“And what is it that you want from us?” she spoke with venom on her tongue.

“I am here to watch and witness.” Edelgard gestured for them to continue.

They carried Flayn’s limp body deeper into the chambers. They had transformed the ancient bedrock of the monastery into a laboratory. They divested Flayn of her school coat and rolled up the sleeves of her blouse. The apprentices then strapped her onto a metal stretcher as the more seasoned magics prepared to draw her blood.

Edelgard watched as Flayn’s blood filled a syringe. It was red. At a glance, it seemed no different than human blood.

Flayn’s eyes began to blink open as they took a second sample. Her face crumpled in confusion. As awareness returned to her, Flayn screamed. The scream resounded off the walls. It rattled Edelgard’s ears. No matter how hard she cried for help, Edelgard knew that no one would hear her.

Edelgard’s legs buckled, and she had to grab the wall for support. This felt wrong. Seeing Flayn like this reminded her of the dark years below Enbarr. She could feel the bite of the leather straps welting into her skin and the cold burn of the metal table.

“You,” she pointed to the head mage. “What is your name?”

“Kronya,” said the mage, almost defiantly.

“How much blood do you require?” Edelgard demanded.

“As much we can take.”

“And after that…what will become of her?”

“Her bones and crest shall make a new relic.” A breathy giggle punctuated her words. It was as if the idea gave Kronya endless delight.

Edelgard swallowed back a tide of bile. For everything that she worked to complete, they threatened to undo it. More crests, more relics, more obscene power.

Thankfully, the mask hid the disgust on her face. _This is only temporary,_ she reminded herself _. You will destroy them from within._

“You are not to kill her yet,” Edelgard said. “Take only what blood you need to begin your experiments.”

“Yes, Thales said the same,” Kronya said with a sigh. “So annoying. He wants to make this wellspring last as long as possible.” For some reason, that just made it worse.

Edelgard had to leave before it become too much.

* * *

Edelgard did not say anything as Hubert removed her armor. Piece by piece, the weight fell away from her body, but an iron clasp cinched her heart. Flayn was not human, she had to remind herself; Flayn was complicit in the oppression wreaked by the church.

But no matter how much she repeated it to herself, the sentiment sounded hollow.

She watched Hubert as he placed the last of the harnesses on the trestle table. He had begun to take out the polishing oil when she stopped him. 

“Wait, Hubert, come here.” 

Dutifully, Hubert returned to her side. Edelgard wrapped her arms around him and buried her head in his chest. Hubert returned the embrace, tucking her head under his chin. She reveled in the comfort of another human being before pulling away.

“Thank you, Hubert,” she said.

“I take it that their experiments were as dire as predicted?”

Edelgard nodded. “Can we just sit for a moment? I need to…think through all of this.”

Edelgard slid down to the ground, her back pressed to the wall. Hubert cautiously came down beside her. He hesitated before his arm awkwardly wrapped around her, and Edelgard accepted it as an invitation to press closer. She leaned her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

“They plan not just to use her blood, but to take her crest stone and create a new relic,” Edelgard said. “They will slowly drain her of her blood—keeping her alive only to prolong their source—and then they’ll strip her body of its last remnants.”

“They are as inhumane as the Nabateans they seek to destroy,” Hubert said. “We must not forget that. We are only using them as they are using you.”

“I wish I could stop them.”

“You will, one day,” Hubert said. “But for now, we must bide our time.”

“They are too powerful. They are everywhere. They crawl through the darkness like roaches. They have been playing this game for centuries.”

“Which is why we must be patient,” Hubert said. “You are the best chance that humanity has to rid us of both the Fell Star and Those Who Slither in the Dark. To destroy only one is to enslave humanity to the other. You will be the one to bring them both down, but you must wait for your moment.”

Edelgard turned her head so that her chin rested on his shoulder. His gaze burned her with the intensity of fire. She brushed the long hair from his eyes.

“Sometimes I wonder if your life could have taken you down a different path. If you had never met me and entered my service, you might have had a more peaceful—"

Hubert squeezed her hand. “A more tedious path? Inconsequential and spoiled rotten, like so many other nobles? Never. My duty to you is no mere obligation. I chose this. I had thought that would be obvious to you.”

Edelgard managed a small smile. At least there was always Hubert, the one consistency left in her life.

“Hubert, what was it that you were going to say earlier?”

Hubert’s face flushed. His eyes turned away. He coughed. “Only that you are valuable to me, milady.”

“Heh, you always surprise me, Hubert.” Her fingers brushed his chin as she turned his face to look back at her. Edelgard could hear her heart race in her ears. Their faces felt very close, and yet Edelgard wasn’t sure what to do. His gaze seemed particularly pointed; his green eyes sharper and brighter than she had ever seen them before.

Hubert leaned forward and kissed her.

It was the barest of kisses, a brief touch of lips, before he pulled back. Yet it was enough to fill Edelgard with a toe-curling warmth. Their breath mixed, as they both waited for the other move.

Outside, her Uncle’s men waited. Her mind slipped back to that fatal night all those years ago. She knew the consequences. If Arundel caught them—

But she didn’t care. Arundel was no longer going to control her. This was her decision to make.

Hubert began to pull away. “I apologize, milady. I over—”

Edelgard tugged his collar and pulled him back down to her. Teeth crashed and scraped together as she hastily kissed him again. Hubert’s apology died in his throat, as he made a noise Edelgard had never heard before—part growl, part moan. His hands slid to her hips, and he tugged her up to his lap, lips never leaving hers, her body now flush against his. A deep primal feeling awoke in Edelgard. She clung to him as though letting him go meant that they would drift away. 

It was messy and imperfect. Neither quite knew what they were doing. But for once, Edelgard didn’t feel quite so alone.

This time, nothing disturbed them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you know how hard it is to create a sympathetic portrayal of Edelgard where she still has agency in her decisions while making her complicit in child experimentation? I wish the game had explored this aspect of her character a little more directly, but it does make good fanfiction fodder.
> 
> Oh, and they finally got some action. ;)


	13. Exposure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Byleth and the Golden Deer hot on the trail of Jeritza, Edelgard must quickly uncover Arundel's secret plans. But Edelgard is not the only victim of the Agarthans at Garreg Mach, and perhaps she can persuade Lysithea to join her side.

Edelgard found Lysithea in the library. The young girl was hauling books from the return bin back to the shelves. 

Ever since Flayn’s disappearance, security at the monastery had been at an all-time high. Stricter curfews were enforced, and even Sylvain hadn’t managed to slip into town past sunset. All of the House leaders had been instructed to assist with the investigation, and Edelgard struggled to portray herself as an eager investigator despite her guilt.

But despite the overwhelming chaos at the monastery, Lysithea attended to her chores as dutifully as ever. Edelgard had seen her name on the library work chart for this week, but she was surprised that unlike the other students, Lysithea still made her rounds.

Ever since Linhardt mentioned that Lysithea also bore two crests, Edelgard had been studying the girl at every moment. Her hair was the strongest indicator; a pure shock white, just like Edelgard’s. Her small size could very well have been a sign too—after all, Edelgard had always suspected that her stunted growth resulted from her blood reconstruction surgery.

Watching Lystihea teeter with the books in the arm, Edelgard noticed something else.

“Lysithea? Are you all right? You don't look well…” Lysithea’s arms were buckling under the weight, and her face had an ashen pale to it. Edelgard felt a sympathetic tremor in her arms. If both crests were acting up, then Lysithea was likely suffering from an anemic flare.

Lysithea’s head jerked around. She hadn’t noticed that Edelgard entered. “Huh? Oh! No, no—I'm fine! Really. Just not accustomed to so much manual labor.”

“Here, let me help you—”

Lysithea danced aside from Edelgard’s eager hands. “I can do it myself, you know. I’m not a child.”

“Why are you cleaning the library all by yourself?”

“Well, someone has to do it,” Lysithea said. “All the other students are off trying to find Flayn.”

“Well... Maybe you should think things through a little more next time. Carrying all those heavy books when you’re—"

Lysithea scoffed. “I can do without the condescension, thanks. After all, I'm the only one who has to deal with the fact that I've worn myself out.”

“I only said that you should take care of yourself. Especially considering—"

“Considering what?”

They locked eyes. Edelgard was certain now: Lysithea shared her curse. Lysithea seemed to appraise Edelgard with the same questioning expression.

Lysithea looked away and sighed. “Linhardt was right.” _Oh_ _no_. What had Linhardt said about her? “You _are_ pushy.”

“I hope he’s not causing you too much trouble.”

Lysithea shrugged, pushing books back onto the shelf. “So do you need something, or are you just here to lecture me?”

“I was wondering if you had heard anything about this Death Knight—”

Lysithea’s eyes widened. “N-no. I don’t believe in demons, you know. And if Lorenz accuses me of hiding here one more—” She paused quickly, “I’m not, you know, hiding from the Death Knight. I’m only here to do my library duties.”

“Good,” Edelgard said. “That’s very mature of you.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“Very well, would you like some help at least? I can—”

“I am capable of doing my own chores, thank you very much.”

Edelgard sighed. “Very well. I would like to get to know you better, Lysithea. I think we have much in common.” She left it at that. Lysithea was stubborn, but if she shared the same trauma as Edelgard, then perhaps that was to be expected.

“Edelgard,” Lysithea called just as Edelgard was about to exit. “Was your hair always that color?” Edelgard turned. Lysithea twisted a strand of her colorless hair. She added, haltingly: “Mine wasn’t, you know.”

“No,” Edelgard said. “It used to be brown.”

“Mine was the color of lavender,” Lysithea said wistfully.

Edelgard could feel her heart break.

* * *

“I come bearing ill news,” Hubert said, bringing Edelgard some evening tea in the Black Eagles classroom. The fireplace had dwindled to smolders, and the light of her lantern eked a weak light over her scattered papers. Curfew broke an hour ago, and any moment now, the knights would probably sweep in to return them to their dorm rooms.

“Dorothea is worried about Professor Manuela.” He set the tray of tea down beside her on the desk. “According to her, nobody knows where Manuela is. Dorothea last saw her running off in a hurry somewhere, and Dorothea worries she may have been snatched by the Death Knight.”

Edelgard nodded morosely. “I hope she is merely drunk somewhere.” On the desk, she had propped open the book that Byleth gave her. In the last week, she had read it through perhaps two or three times, yet she still returned to it, puzzling over its secrets. 

“I would never think to hear those words from you.” Hubert poured her tea. He insisted on standing and hovering over her until she tugged him down to sit next to her on the bench. Hubert obliged. Part of him was very aware of the very dark and very empty classroom that they shared and of the narrow space between their bodies on the bench. Edelgard didn’t seem quite as distracted by it as Hubert, something he noted with a soft hum of annoyance.

He was annoyed, of course, with himself. For so many years, he had maintained the boundaries in their relationship with the utmost decorum. All it took was her eyes puddling with tears, and Hubert’s brain switched from servility to protection. He had wanted to comfort her, to distract her, to remind her that she was not so alone. All that babbling about what she meant to him—the sentimentality almost made him cringe—but the kiss…

Hubert found himself staring at her lips as she spoke.

“The alternative is too grim to bear,” Edelgard said.

Hubert forced himself to look away. “Still, looking at the positive side, no one has made any discoveries about Flayn’s location.”

Edelgard sighed. Her fingers idly flipped the pages of the book in front of her.

“According to the tradition my father passed down to me, the first Emperor Wilhelm colluded with the Immaculate One a thousand years ago, willingly enslaving humanity to the Nabataeans through the Church in exchange for the title of Emperor. But this account…” She thumbed through the antique text, “it suggests that Wilhelm did so in exchange for the, quote, ‘blood of the prophet,’ and that the Crest of Seiros originates with this blood pact.”

“I am not familiar with the credibility of this particular text, but it is possible for both accounts to be true,” Hubert said. “I have also been studying. According to the tomes provided by your Uncle, there are two ways of acquiring a crest. One, is through a transfusion of blood from a Major Crest bearer, such the type Wilhelm may have acquired from Rhea. The closer the crest is to the original source, the likelier the transfusion will work. Blood reconstruction surgery operates on this principle, although transfusing a second crest comes with a higher casualty rate.”

Of eleven children, only Edelgard survived. Lysithea was supposedly an only child. How many siblings might she have had once?

“The other method is implantation of the crest stone directly to the vital organs,” Hubert said. “Hardly preferable. Those Who Slither in the Dark once experimented with this method, but you lose access to the crest stone until the person dies.”

No crest stone meant no relics. Half the reason the Agarthans wanted the crests was to wield the destructive power of the relics.

Hubert went on: “Furthermore, it does not appear that an implanted crest can be passed down through a hereditary lineage the same way it can through a transfused crest. The Agarthans want to create new lineages.”

“So if my Crest of Flames came from blood reconstruction, then the transfusion must have come from an original carrier, but Nemesis has been dead for a thousand years.”

“Interesting, isn’t it? I also wonder if you would be able to wield the Sword of the Creator without the crest,” Hubert said. “As know, the crest stone was missing for the Sword of the Creator.”

“Yet Byleth was able to wield it,” Edelgard said. “Which must mean that she received her crest through implantation. She has a crest stone; it’s just inside of her.”

Hubert steepled his fingers and hummed. “I do not suspect that Those Who Slither in the Dark are responsible for that, considering that they have already abandoned the implantation method. Furthermore, your Uncle seems genuinely surprised by the existence of Byleth. So who—”

“Rhea.” Edelgard exhaled heartily. “Jeralt supposedly disappeared from the monastery twenty years ago after a fire. He had a child that died in that same fire. What if the child didn’t die? What if Byleth is that child?”

“Which would explain why Rhea welcomed her so readily,” Hubert said. “It is a frightening thought, however. If Rhea implanted the crest into a child—"

“She’s just like Those Who Slither in the Dark,” Edelgard hissed. “Using the bodies of children to enact her schemes.”

“Despite its many failings, there was a reason why Those Who Slither in the Dark favored implantation for so many years,” Hubert said. “The Slithers may believe that implantation provides not only the powers of a crest but the original powers of the Nabateans themselves. They hypothesized that a wide range of abilities may be possible, including transmogrification, magical artificing, sympathetic magic, and chronomancy.”

“Chronomancy? What is that?”

“I am not certain. I found only a single reference to it in the tomes, but apparently it is linked to the Crest of Flames.” 

Edelgard’s blood ran thin. Lately, it had become a matter of concern how her Uncle never encouraged magical study. She was beginning to think it was intentional.

“I will have to ask my Uncle next time I see him,” she said.

“I recommend playing ignorant a little while longer,” Hubert said. “If he believes we know too much, he may become more restrictive.”

“No, I tire of hiding,” Edelgard said. “My Uncle must learn to contend with me. I will no longer sit by and be his coy little tool.”

Her head drooped against his shoulder, and automatically, Hubert’s hand drifted up around her shoulder. Her small body radiated a generous amount of heat, and that was probably why Hubert felt so warm. 

“Do as you feel is best,” Hubert said shakily, as he struggled to maintain his concentration. “But do not discount the value of caution.”

“Hubert, I shall forever rely on you to tell me exactly what could wrong at every moment.”

“I take my duty as your protector very seriously.”

“Heh, is that what you see yourself as? My protector?”

In these moments alone, Hubert’s last reserves of resolve disintegrated. His fingers drifted through her hair, raking against her scalp, and she purred in response, almost like that damn cat running loose in the dorms.

“I am whatever milady requires me to be,” Hubert said. “Servant, protector, confidante.”

“Lover?”

Hubert’s face turned beet red, and he began coughing. Edelgard laughed. She reached up and brushed his hair out of his face before kissing him on the cheek. When she pulled away, it was her turn to blush, and a bashful smile overtook her expression. Hubert could feel his heart pound out of his chest. The heat had spread to his extremities. He was a fool to think that he could have ever stayed away from her.

“How about magic teacher?” she added. “I think it is time I start learning. My Uncle has kept these things from me for too long.”

“Very well, milady,” he said, but the blush still lingered on his cheeks.

* * *

It was Bernie that provided the fatal clue. Edelgard cornered her at breakfast the next morning, just to make sure that she was surviving intact. Bernadetta hadn’t emerged from her room often during the chaos, and Edelgard had begun to worry about her.

“Felix thinks it’s Jeritza,” Bernadetta said. “Something about his sword being impulsive. I don’t know what that means, but Felix is pretty certain.”

Dorothea, perhaps somewhat predictably, focused on the wrong part. “Wait, did you say _Felix_ told you that?” Dorothea leaned against the door. “I take it you got your satchel back then?”

“W-well, when you say it like that!” Bernadetta pinked. “Look, I-I’m just helping him train. It’s nothing, really!” Bright as a strawberry, Bernadetta ducked away, likely to disappear for the rest of the week.

While Felix’s evidence was thin, the accusation still worried Edelgard. Later, as she wandered by the training hall, she overheard something even more alarming:

“What? Jeritza? Hm, come to think of it, I haven't seen him today. What would make you suspect him?”

Edelgard stepped back and peered into the hall. It was Catherine speaking to Byleth.

“I hear that he goes out every night,” Byleth said. “Felix is concerned as well.”

Of course, Byleth was at the heart of the investigation. Edelgard wondered if her implanted crest gave her clairvoyance as well. Byleth began to turn, so Edelgard slipped out of the hall. She needed to find Hubert, and then she needed to become the Flame Emperor once again.

Edelgard’s blood surged in her ears, and the panic nearly blinded her. Hubert barely had time to ask her what was wrong before she whisked him away. To the creek, she said, and so they went to the old fortification, where the shell of the Flame Emperor waited for her. Hubert dressed her armor so hastily, it left her breathless. Still, it took over an hour to arrive and prepare herself.

With each passing minute, Edelgard’s anxiety ramped up. Byleth’s ruthless efficiency in rooting out Arundel’s people meant that she could be stumbling upon the true evidence any moment. What was preventing her from going directly to Jeritza’s room and discovering the chambers for herself?

By the time Edelgard warped into the lower chambers, a battle had already begun.

 _The Golden Deer. Of course._ This time, Edelgard felt no surprise, only growing frustration.

She pulled back into the shadows to observe from beneath her visor. Claude was nowhere to be seen, but Byleth—that eternal mystery—led the charge. She led them through the twisting chambers, unaware that Edelgard watched her, sending half the students off to explore the warp pads, and the other half to battle mages in the laboratory.

There was no hint of Jeritza. He must lie in wait deeper within the chambers. Edelgard could not afford to lose such a valuable vassal now, and if anyone could defeat him, it was Byleth.

Yet Edelgard could not risk battling Byleth herself. She hated to admit her own weakness, but even with the Flame Emperor’s mantle resting on her shoulders and the crest of flames tinging her blood, she lacked the preternatural abilities that came with the implanted crest.

The Sword of the Creator glowed ember-red in Byleth’s hands. The vertebrae of the blade split and coiled like a whip. If Edelgard ever hoped to wield it, she required the crest that beat against Byleth’s heart. The thought saddened her. Surely, there was some way to convince Byleth to join her side—to destroy their makers together.

The two groups of students rejoined in the central chamber. Ignatz fumbled with the lock on an ancient stone door while Raphael heaved a swordsman off him. The door swung open.

Edelgard expected to see Kronya beyond that final door, but she had fled, it seemed. Instead, Jeritza bore down upon them, an imposing figure on his draft-horse, clutching the unnatural scythe engineered by Thales himself.

“Oh, what sport,” Jeritza said.

Her classmates would die if they faced Jeritza. A necessary sacrifice perhaps, but the thought still made Edelgard’s stomach curl. 

Raphael tapped his gauntlets together. Ignatz nocked his bow while Leonie drew hers back. Lysitihea staggered back to gain some distance, Lorenz just a step ahead with magic crackling at his fingertips. To one side, Hilda gripped her axe defensively, shielding Marianne with her body. And at the front-center stood Byleth.

Jeritza laughed beneath his helmet. “Now, you will die together... How joyous...”

The Sword of the Creator extended, and Byleth whipped it around the hooves of Jertiza’s horse. The horse reared up, narrowly skipping over the blade. At that moment, Hilda charged forward at the flank. Her axe dinged against his greaves. Jeritza swung his scythe backwards, hooking Hilda’s waist around the concave curve of the blade and scooping her back against the wall, as though he were swatting a fly.

Hilda’s body crunched on impact. While he hadn’t used the sharp edge of his weapon, the prick of the scythe had sliced the skin beneath her ribs, where the armor gapped. Blood dribbled through the cracks in her armor.

“Marianne, attend to her!” but Byleth didn’t need to say it. Marianne summoned balls of healing energy, but as she concentrated her magic on Hilda, Jeritza took notice.

His horse bounded forward. Hooves flashed in the air as he threatened to stomp down on Marianne. Byleth blocked his attack with another snap of the Sword. Arrows pattered uselessly against his armor. Lorenz’s fire attack didn’t even singe the mane of the Death Knight’s horse, and he switched to his lance, hefting the javelin above his shoulder only for it to miss Jeritza.

This was pathetic. Despite their best attempts, they could barely land a hit on the Death Knight. Edelgard began to hope that perhaps he made a worthy opponent for Byleth.

Yet as good as it would be to kill Byleth, there was still a chance that Edelgard could bring the professor to their side. If the Professor could work such wonders for the Golden Deer, what would happen if she and Edelgard were to combine their Crests of Flames? It would be no good to waste the Professor this early on.

Black spikes of dark magic erupted from the tiles beneath the Death Knight’s hooves. As the ground split, the horse panicked, rearing back so far that it tumbled to the ground. Jeritza struck the earth with a mighty crack. Stunned, startled, Jeritza moaned from beneath the horse’s flank.

That was no plain reason magic—no mere fire or wind spell. That was dark magic, the type that only Those Who Slithered in the Dark used.

Edelgard looked towards the source of the magic.

_Lysithea._

Her attention snapped back to Byleth, who had staggered back to avoid the flying debris. The Sword gleamed, hot and ready for the final strike. Jeritza rolled to his feet, laughter roiling under his breath.

A spark flared out, and Lysithea crumpled to the ground.

Edelgard warped herself between Byleth and the Death Knight.

“Halt. You're having a bit too much fun.”

Byleth hardly looked surprised. A grim determination set in her eyes. Her posture relaxed, and she withdrew the Sword. Almost as if she expected this. Almost as if she knew what were going to happen.

Jeritza groaned. “You are getting in the way of my game.”

“You'll have more opportunities to play soon. Your work here is done.” Edelgard

“Understood. I will go...” He sounded like a petulant child, but he complied, warping away in a mist of black magic.

Edelgard was left alone with the Golden Deer. They did not know her like this, but she knew each of them. This would not be the last time that she had to face her classmates as the Flame Emperor. The stronger the Golden Deer, the more problematic they would all become. She might one day need to rectify that.

“We will cross paths again,” she said. Her visor peered down at Byleth. “I am the Flame Emperor... It is I who will reforge the world.”

She disappeared in a whiff of magic.

* * *

“I knew something was wrong. I should have looked harder for Manuela.”

Dorothea was inconsolable. As hard as it was to believe, Manuela had somehow beat out Byleth for the truth. Her collapsed body had been found in Jeritza’s room, providing the final clue to the whereabouts of Flayn.

In the day since the discovery, all hell had broken loose for Edelgard. Flayn was found in the chambers below Jeritza’s room, which meant he could no longer serve as her hidden spy within the monastery. That left just her and Hubert.

Furthermore, they had apparently rescued another student held captive in the lower chambers, which only incriminated Jeritza further. Fortunately, that was where the discoveries ended. Nobody tied it back to Edelgard—yet.

Dorothea continued to babble. “All that time Manuela was lying in his room—she could have died, and I knew something was wrong. We should have investigated ourselves the second Felix told us about Jeritza.”

They were walking from the dining hall towards the dorms. Edelgard had piled a few pastries on a plate, determinedly walking to Lysithea’s room. The tactician in her wondered if it was a good idea to bring Dorothea, but the friend in her didn’t want to leave Dorothea alone.

“Manuela and Flayn are both alive,” Edelgard said. “We cannot change the past. We can only focus on what we can do now.”

Dorothea nodded. “You’re right.”

They stood outside Lysithea’s room. Edelgard knocked, and the door opened.

“Linhardt?” Dorothea said. “What are you doing here?” The surprise distracted her from her guilt.

Linhardt groaned. “I could ask you the same question. But if you must know, I am caring for my patient.”

“We heard Lysithea was injured, and we wanted to bring her some pastries—” Edelgard couldn’t finish her sentence before Lysithea piped in.

“Pastries? Let them in, Linhardt.”

Lysithea lay on her bed. Jeritza’s magic burned a ring of skin around her neck and upper arms. She wore just a thin camisole beneath her sleeves of bandages—a fact which scandalized Edelgard somewhat, but neither Linhardt nor she seemed to care.

Lysithea greedily reached for the plate of pastries.

“Thank you so much,” Lysithea said. Her face took on a light that Edelgard had rarely seen before.

“We just wanted to make sure you were okay,” Dorothea said.

Lysithea’s face scrunched up in annoyance, but the pastries kept her mood otherwise light.

“I’m not that fragile,” Lysithea said. “Hilda got it way worse than me.”

“Yes, so perhaps you ought to head over to check on Hilda now,” Linhardt said, hand on the door, ready to scoop them out of the room.

Edelgard ignored Linhardt. “I heard you were the only one able to do any damage to the Death Knight,” she said to Lysithea. “That is remarkable. You have an astounding talent for magic.”

“It’s not talent; it’s hard work,” Lysithea said.

“Of course,” Edelgard said. “Thank goodness you were there for the Golden Deer. Who knows what they might have done without you.”

“Well, with Professor Byleth there, nothing really bad would have happened,” Lysithea said. “Now that’s talent.”

"You’re lucky that Byleth is your professor,” Edelgard said. “Of course, I cannot imagine it is easy to train without other specialists in your area. The Golden Deer aren’t known for their specialty in reason magic.”

“Lorenz isn’t so bad,” Lysithea said unconvincingly.

“Yes, but what you practice is more than just Reason Magic, isn’t it?” Edelgard asked. Lysithea chewed on a pastry for far too long while staring down at the plate. “I was thinking of starting up a little magic training group for the Black Eagles. But since Hubert is the only one who practices the same _specific_ form of magic as you, I thought you might find it beneficial to join us.”

Lysithea swallowed her pastry. “A training group? For…reason magic?” For dark magic. They both knew it. Lysithea nodded. “All right. I think I could do that. Hubert’s not going to use me for some sort of strange experiment, is he?”

“No, but we can’t promise that Lin won’t.” Dorothea waggled her eyebrows.

“I object to that,” Linhardt said. 

“I’ll let you rest,” Edelgard said. As soon as they left the room, Linhardt slid out the door after them.

“Why are you trying to be Lysithea’s friend? What are you gaining here?” Linhardt crossed his arms.

“Wow, Lin, real grateful, aren’t you?” Dorothea said.

“You’re not doing this for me, are you?”

Edelgard smiled. “As House Leader, it is my duty to make sure that everyone is reaching their full potential. I’ve noticed that you put in far more effort when Lysithea is around, and if she motivates you, I would be remiss in not utilizing her talents.”

“Why are you going through so much effort for me?” Linhardt asked.

“Would you prefer that I rescind my offer to her? I just thought you might prefer having your ‘test subject’ closer around.”

Linhardt pursed his lips. “No.” He sighed, and reluctantly, he added, “Thank you, Edelgard. Honestly, I don’t know why you would bother.”

_Because we need Lysithea._

“Because we’re friends, Linhardt,” Edelgard said. “I hope you won’t forget that.”

* * *

After Edelgard made her rounds visiting the injured students, she waited at the Infirmary for Rhea to allow her to visit Manuela. Hubert eventually joined her, and they sat together, modelling a perfect performance of platonic colleagueship. Edelgard sat on the bench while Hubert stood a foot beside her. They did not touch. They spoke of classwork. When Ignatz came ( _Waiting to see Flayn? What was going on there?_ ), Edelgard tried to hold a conversation with him about paint pigments, completely ignoring Hubert.

“Ah, Edelgard, there you are.” Seteth emerged from the infirmary. Deep bags lined his eyes. Edelgard suspected he had not slept at all since Flayn disappeared. “It is fortunate that you are. We need to speak.”

Seteth gestured for her to follow him to the Knight’s room. He permitted Hubert to follow, although he did not formally acknowledge him. Once they entered the room, he closed the door.

“I am sure you aware of the events that transpired yesterday,” he said. Edelgard nodded. “Professor Byleth found Flayn, for which I am eternally grateful, but that was not all. There was another student there.”

“Yes, I heard that part. Do we know who she is?”

“Last year, Monica von Ochs disappeared in a similar manner to Flayn,” he said. “We suspected that she had merely run away—she had always been a rebellious girl. But it seems as though she too was a victim of the Death Knight.”

Monica von Ochs? That made no sense. Arundel told Edelgard that she was dead.

“You found her body then?”

“No,” Seteth said. “It is quite remarkable, but she is still alive.”

No. No, she wasn’t. Edelgard could feel the icy grip of fear clench her soul. This could only mean one thing.

“How is that possible?”

Seteth shrugged. “Whatever they were using those girls for, apparently it wasn’t lethal. Now to business. Monica has requested that she be permitted to re-enroll at the Academy. She would like to rejoin her old house, the Black Eagles.”

“I see,” Edelgard said. She had no other words left in her.

“We are considering this request,” Seteth said. “Monica mentioned that you two knew each other before in the court.” That was a lie. Edelgard had never met Monica von Ochs. But the lie didn’t matter anyways because this wasn’t the real Monica. “I believe it may be beneficial for you to take her under your wing. She is in unusually good spirits, but this transition may prove difficult for her.”

“Of course,” Edelgard said. “This is quite a shock. May I see her?”

Seteth nodded. “She is ready for visitors. Fortunately, her wounds are not nearly as severe as Flayn or Manuela’s.”

He walked them back to the infirmary. It took everything Edelgard had not to reach out to Hubert. She noticed the subtle lines furrowing into his brow. Surely he had arrived at the same conclusion.

“Well, hello there Edel!” squeaked a hiccupy voice.

The girl before her hardly looked like someone who had been a prisoner for a year. Her hair was too clean and orderly; her expression too exuberant. Edelgard noticed the waxy sheen of the skin, the stilted face, the burning eyes of an Agarthan clone. Now she realized why she hadn’t seen Kronya in the chambers below Jeritza’s room.

It seemed that while Edelgard had lost use of one vassal, her Uncle had gained another set of eyes.

“We’re going be best friends, aren’t we?” 


	14. Loyalties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Edelgard pursues her study of magic, she finds herself at odds with Monica. As events slide further out of her control, she must take stock of who her true allies are. Hubert, as always, is ready to assist.

Hubert was lying to himself.

Normally, Hubert wielded duplicity like a spell. His father had cultivated the talent since a young age. A von Vestra must protect the royal family both within and without the shadows. Prevarication was one just one more skill in his toolbox.

To lie to someone like his father was one thing—it almost felt antithetical to their relationship to communicate in any other language than that of deceit. Lying to their classmates was a matter of necessity. They could not risk anyone discovering their machinations.

Even shielding Edelgard from the occasional inconvenient truth was acceptable, so long as it benefited her. If the result was the same, how Hubert arrived there did not matter.

But all of this required Hubert to maintain a rational and objective grasp on his own reality. To serve Edelgard best, he had to maintain a sharp level of scrutiny. Above all else, he had to be honest with himself to make the best assessments on her behalf. He served her without emotion, without desire, without remorse.

Yet ever since the night of Flayn’s disappearance, when Edelgard had sought refuge in his arms, when he had lost all reason and kissed her, Hubert had committed a very serious falsehood. He told himself that he could continue to serve her without emotion clouding his judgment. He was not his father; he was not some simpering fool like Sylvain; he could control himself.

Or so he told himself. What ended up happening in those stolen moments that he was alone with Edelgard often contravened his careful stoic façade. They hadn’t crossed any dangerous lines in their relationship yet, although Hubert could not help the thoughts that increasingly strayed through his head—thoughts that frustrated him both with shame and desire. These thoughts often intruded in the most inconvenient moments, distracting him during class and meals.

It was rare that they found themselves alone. They could not afford to attract too much attention to themselves, and when they were alone, more often than not, they were working on interpreting Arundel’s esoteric texts or strategizing their next move—hardly romantic trysts.

But this afternoon, they were actually studying. Edelgard wanted to grasp at least the basics of reason magic, but starting so late in life, she was struggling with glyphs and conjurations. Hubert offered a private lesson, and so they met in his room to practice. Hubert let her take his desk while he studied on his bed. It was important to maintain an appropriate distance.

Hubert had been watching her carefully to ensure that she was performing adequately ( _he was not, as she would later accuse, staring at her_ ), and she had asked for help interpreting a symbol, bringing the text to him on the bed ( _entirely innocently; Hubert was likely reading too much into the way that she slid her hair off her neck or leaned into him_ ).

And before he knew it, she was straddling his lap, pressed against him, as he trailed his lips down her neck. Every thought in Hubert’s head dissolved into pure sensation—the scrape of her fingernails against his scalp, the pulse of her throat at his mouth, the pliable squeeze of her thighs under his hands. She turned his head back up to hers, and as she kissed him, a soft hum of pleasure vibrated from her chest. Her lips parted invitingly as her fingers traced the edge of his collarbone, following the edge of his shirt down to the first button and—

A knock next door made them freeze.

“Edel?”

Edelgard’s muscles tensed under his hands. Monica was at her door. They heard another knock.

They waited for Monica’s steps to leave, but suddenly, the footsteps pattered one door over. The knock came louder, clearer this time. She stood just outside Hubert’s door.

“Ed-el,” Monica’s cheerful voice sung. “Are you in there?”

Neither dared to breathe or move, for fear that a single sound could betray their position. She would go away in a minute. They just had to pretend that the room was empty.

The handle turned. Edelgard’s fingernails bit into Hubert’s skin. The handle uselessly twisted. Thankfully, Hubert had locked the door ( _merely as a precaution and for no other reason_ ).

Finally, Monica’s footsteps faded down the hall. Edelgard let out a sigh of relief. She slid off Hubert’s lap and slumped down beside him, her head lolling on his shoulder.

“She’s beginning to become a problem,” Edelgard said.

“Beginning? She has been a problem since she arrived,” Hubert said. “I am astounded that no one in the church finds her suspicious. This is unusually sloppy work on behalf of Arundel.”

“I can never escape her,” Edelgard said. “It is like she is following me around.”

Since Monica had appeared, she had waited each morning outside Edelgard’s door. Every meal and lecture was spent at Edelgard’s side. If Edelgard was performing her chores or training, Monica would linger nearby. She had only escaped this afternoon because Seteth had demanded to speak to Monica regarding her abduction.

“Doubtless, she is performing surveillance on behalf of your Uncle,” Hubert said. “What I cannot figure out is what he is seeking.”

“Another set of eyes. More intel into the Monastery. More intel on me.” Edelgard began to play with the fringes of his sleeve. Hubert slid his hand into hers and squeezed it. “Every time I feel as though I have power, it is stripped away from me. Byleth, Arundel, Rhea: I wonder if I can truly contend against them.”

“Milady, I will not permit you to speak such aspersions against yourself,” Hubert said. “Do not let such fears cloud your resolve.” He gripped her hand tightly.

“Hubert, I—”

“You may have lost Jeritza, but you still have me. Tell me what you want. I will see it done.”

Edelgard sighed. “Hubert, we cannot be rash. As much as I value and respect your work, we cannot do this alone. If I lose you, I –“ She swallowed hard. “I cannot risk you being compromised as Jeritza was. What we need is…” she sighed, “what we need are more allies.

“Tell me what needs to be done,” he repeated, with urgency.

“I need to know the position and allegiance of every member of the Black Eagles.”

“Very well,” Hubert said. “What are your initial impressions?”

“I trust Dorothea,” Edelgard said. “But I cannot tell where her political beliefs align.”

“Dorothea is your strongest advocate, outside of myself of course,” Hubert said. “While I initially held suspicions about her desire to marry into nobility, I believe she may genuinely trust and enjoy your friendship.”

“That is unusually complimentary of you.”

“I am merely stating an objective observation,” Hubert said. “I worry, however, about Petra. She is, indeed, a great friend of yours, but she is also a Princess of Brigid, who would no doubt take any opportunity to liberate themselves from the yoke of the Empire.”

“Petra is a political hostage,” Edelgard said. “I will offer her freedom. As well as the freedom of her people.”

“But will she trust you enough to risk the liberty of her nation on it?”

Edelgard sighed. These were murky waters. She knew these people as school friends, not as war allies.

“I understand and will proceed with caution. What about Caspar and Linhardt?”

“This is a matter regarding the servitude of humanity,” Hubert said. “Caspar should be an easy ally. He charges headfirst at any perceived transgression. Linhardt on the other hand—”

A tricky puzzle, Linhardt was. Edelgard wasn’t certain if she was imagining it, but Linhardt almost seemed to be warming up to her recently. And she needed him. A crest scholar like him would prove undoubtedly useful in her purge of Those Who Slithered in the Dark. Furthermore, Linhardt was her key was to Lysithea.

“Linhardt will need to be convinced that this is his path, taken of his own will,” Edelgard said. “He will want agency and a freedom to pursue his own research. I believe we can give him that, better than anyone.”

“That same desire could lead him to other roads,” Hubert said. “This infatuation with the von Ordelia girl could easily—”

“No. We need Lysithea,” Edelgard said. “She is the most powerful mage I’ve ever seen, no doubt due to her own history with the Slithers. Short of Byleth, she could prove to be our most valuable ally.”

“Very well,” Hubert said. “That leaves Bernadetta and Ferdinand.”

“My worry about Bernadetta is that she will run and hide instead of fight,” Edelgard said. “Her father is the Minister of Religion, but she herself has suffered so greatly at his hands that I do not think she would be loyal to the Church. At the same time, it seems almost like torture to ask her to battle for us.”

“That will be her own decision,” Hubert said. “There is never harm in the asking.”

“Well, let’s shelve that discussion for now. Ferdinand.”

"Ferdinand.”

_What to make of Ferdinand?_

“Hubert, I am afraid I will have to leave that analysis to you,” Edelgard said. “You get on with him better than I do.”

“I do?” Hubert sounded genuinely surprised.

“I thought I saw you two taking tea the other day,” Edelgard said.

“It was an unfortunate matter of circumstance,” Hubert said. “I detest his company.”

“If you say so. In any case, you seem to know better than I do. So tell me, in your honest objective opinion: what about Ferdinand?”

Hubert considered his words carefully. “Ferdinand is house-proud,” Hubert said. “He has a strong belief in the supremacy of his lineage and his rightful hereditary place as Prime Minister. Likely, he shall not take it well if you were to deny him what he perceives as his birthright. Still, if we want to divest Ludwig of his power, we may find an ally in Ferdinand, who so clearly recognizes the flaws of his father.”

Edelgard pictured her seven colleagues in her head—the six Black Eagles and Lysithea.

“We have ten days until the Battle of the Lion and Eagle,” she said. “That will be our first true test. I want us to identify their allegiances by that point, without Monica interfering.”

“I will keep her off you as best I can,” Hubert said. “Perhaps no one would notice if she disappeared again.”

Edelgard smiled “I just realized. We forgot someone.”

“Hm. Who?”

“You. What should I make of you, Hubert?”

He leaned down and whispered in her ear. “That I am loyal, dutiful, and eager to please, milady.” The way she shivered against him made almost made him smile. “Now, shall we resume your studies?”

_(Yes, study, that was precisely his intention.)_

* * *

A burst of fire engulfed the target, a tower of flames racing up into the air. Heat blasted their faces. As the magically induced fire wilted, ashes spiraled through the air like snowflakes.

Petra clapped her hands wildly. Edelgard smiled.

“How exactly did you learn to that in the opera, Dorothea?” Edelgard asked.

“There are all sorts of sleezy men in the theater,” Dorothea said. “You had to learn to protect yourself without getting blood on your costume.” While Dorothea’s tone was light, Edelgard’s stomach twisted in disgust. “Anyways, your turn, your majesty.” She winked and gestured to the target.

Edelgard sighed and stilled her nerves. She could do this. Ignis was a simple spell—the simplest in fact. She cupped her hand. She envisioned the glyph for fire, mapping out its lines and curves.

“ _Ignis_!”

Heat singed her hand, so viciously that Edelgard dropped her spell with a shriek.

Dorothea snorted. “Tell me, Edie: what exactly is it that you’ve been doing all this time in those private lessons with Hubert?”

Edelgard’s whole body turned hot, as though she had accidentally ignited her face instead of her hand.

“I am thinking that they were not studying!” Petra chimed. Both laughed at the wide-eyed, gutted expression on Edelgard’s face.

The problem with female friends, Edelgard was starting to learn, was that it was very difficult to hide anything from them. Hubert and she had carefully divided their time. They never touched or said anything inappropriate in front of the others. They only met up for their reason lessons—which was a perfectly valid reason for two people be alone together without suspicion.

Yet the truth never seemed to elude Dorothea and Petra.

“Oh shush,” Edelgard said. “You try, Petra.”

Petra readied herself. Her feet braced as she though she was about to charge an enemy, shifting weight from foot to foot and rolling her shoulders. She held out her hand and—

 _Pop—cracklezzz!_ A flash of light. A scream.

Edelgard felt the light pierce behind her eyes. Discolored shapes floated across her vision. Blinking wildly, she saw Dorothea stamping out a green-colored fire from the grass.

"Well, we certainly have our work cut out for us,” intoned Linhardt. He and Lysithea had just entered the training room. Behind him—Edelgard clenched her teeth—was _Monica_.

Monica danced into the room, her hands clasped behind her back.

“Edel, what are you doing learning magic?” she asked with a cheeky laugh.

“It is important that a leader engage with a broad skillset,” Edelgard said. “If I find myself without a weapon, I should still be able to defend myself.”

 _Where was Hubert?_ He had promised to distract Monica today while Edelgard practiced.

“Oh Edel, that’s so silly,” Monica said. “Speed is always better than magic, and you’re just. So. Slooooow.” She giggled. “Why don’t you and I go work on that instead?” She grabbed Edelgard’s hand and tried to pull her out.

Edelgard twisted away from her grasp. To her surprise, Dorothea stepped between Edelgard and Monica.

“If you don’t want to practice magic, you can go run laps somewhere else,” Dorothea said, crossing her arms. “But leave Edelgard alone.” 

Monica’s lips parted, and her teeth flashed in a wolfish sneer. Edelgard wondered if the others could read the animosity in her eyes.

“You know what, Dorothy? I do want to train with you.” She stepped closer to Dorothea. “You seem pretty handy with magic. Why don’t you and I spar?”

“Are you sure you’re strong enough for that?” Dorothea asked. “I would hate to exacerbate your wounds when you are still so weak from your ordeal.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me,” Monica sang. Edelgard flinched at the low tone of malice in her voice.

“I do not think now is—”

Dorothea held a hand out to stop Edelgard. “I think this will be educational for you and Petra,” she said, staring down Monica.

Edelgard stepped back to the edges of the training room. Petra joined her. She had pulled her training dagger out from its sheath.

Edelgard glanced over to Linhardt and Lysithea, still waiting at the door. Linhardt stroked his chin as though he were developing some sort of hypothesis. Lysithea frowned deeply. She reached out for Linhardt and grasped his arm.

 _Does she recognize what Monica is?_ Edelgard wondered.

Dorothea and Monica stood at opposite ends of the training mat. Monica wielded a training sword—nothing more than a blunted, wooden rod. Dorothea, meanwhile, juggled sparks between her hands.

“En garde,” Edelgard called. Dorothea braced; Monica just smiled. “Begin!”

Dorothea released a crackle of energy. Lightning split from the ceiling, enveloping the spot where Monica stood. Except—she wasn’t there!

In a mere second, Monica had crossed the room. She grabbed Dorothea from behind and stabbed her with the blunt tip of the training sword. 

Dorothea screamed. Her body crumpled to the floor. Blood seeped from her side and pooled on the ground.

“I win!” Monica squealed.

Linhardt raced to Dorothea’s side, faster than Edelgard had ever seen him move before. Healing magic flooded from his hands as he worked to close the wound. Monica giggled madly as she watched the panic unfold.

Petra screamed with rage. She charged Monica. Monica was still holding the wooden training sword. Petra tore the weapon from her hand, turning it over, looking for some hidden blade or sharpened point. There was nothing.

Petra tossed it aside and tackled Monica.

Monica yelped as Petra toppled her and straddled her waist. Petra’s hands patted down her body, searching for a hidden dagger or blade.

Monica’s glee had finally disappeared. A ravenous ire overtook her. She snarled, an expression befitting a wild beast. One hand slipped into her sleeve, as though she were about to draw something from within it.

Rage woke the crests inside Edelgard’s blood. Their staccato-rhythm beat against her bones. She reacted so quickly, it felt as though someone else had overtaken her body. She pulled Petra, still flailing, off Monica.

“Stop. Get Dorothea to the infirmary. Now.”

“But—”

“Now!”

Petra scrambled to help Linhardt. They lifted up Dorothea’s arms and legs and carried her out of the room. Edelgard stepped in front of Monica, pushing her back against the wall so that she couldn’t follow them.

“Don’t you dare touch one of them again like that again,” Edelgard growled. Monica was fast, but Edelgard was stronger. She pinned her against the brick. “I don’t care who you are. I will make you regret it.”

Monica laughed. “Edel, come on, I was just having a little fun.” She wriggled to try to free herself, but Edelgard activated the Crest of Flames. Monica gasped as Edelgard crunched into her bones. “Don’t be a buzzkill, princess. Your Uncle would hate to hear that you’re treating me this way.”

“I don’t care,” Edelgard repeated. “If you try that again, you will have to deal with me, not Arundel.”

“Oh, Edel, you are easy to rile up,” Monica said. “But just keep in mind that I can defend myself—”

“Put your hands on me and see what Arundel does then,” Edelgard said. “You’re disposable. I’m not.”

Something shifted in Monica’s eyes. _Was that…fear?_ Her mouth opened and then quickly closed. She grimaced under the weight of Edelgard’s unnatural strength. 

“Fine,” Monica said. “I won’t touch one of your little eagle chicks again.” Edelgard released her. Monica slid down the wall, clutching her bruised shoulder. “Now the real question is, does that sweet baby count?”

Edelgard spun around. Lysithea was still standing in the doorway, watching the entire interaction. Her hands were gripped, mid-spell, as miasma wove around her body.

“I am not a baby,” Lysithea said.

“You’re not a Black Eagle either,” Monica taunted.

“They all count,” Edelgard said. “Let’s go, Lysithea. We need to check on Dorothea.”

* * *

“The only explanation I have is that the impact of the training sword must have opened up an old wound,” Manuela said. It was the first thing Edelgard heard as she and Lysithea entered the infirmary.

“I didn’t have a wound there,” Dorothea protested.

“Monica must be hiding dagger!” Petra said. 

“Please, Professor, you must believe us,” Linhardt said.

Manuela sighed. “I will speak to Seteth, but I have to warn you, this is a delicate situation,” Manuela said. “The Church is eager to please the von Ochs ever since it was revealed that they bungled the initial investigation into her disappearance.”

Edelgard scoffed. Manuela turned and sighed. One more Black Eagle to contend with. The infirmary was already crowded.

“Of course the church is more concerned with placating the nobility rather than defending their students,” Edelgard said.

“All I’m saying is that this may not be judged as malicious behavior,” Manuela said. “You should all be well aware that accidents happen on the training ground. Monica just rejoined us after a very traumatic incident. She may very well have resorted to more force if she felt threatened.”

"She threatened me!” Dorothea said. “Manuela, please, you know I would never—”

“I know.” Manuela sounded defeated. “I will speak to Seteth. Just…don’t get your hopes up, Dorothea.” She patted her shoulder. “You know how these things are.” Manuela set Dorothea’s medicine on the side table and left them alone.

Edelgard struggled to find the words. “Dorothea, I’m—"

“Don’t you dare say you are sorry,” Dorothea said. “This isn’t your fault.”

“Seteth will not be giving Monica the discipline,” Petra said angrily. “Because she is noble, and Dorothea being common!”

Dorothea grimaced. Her hand went to her injured side. She blinked fervently, trying to dispel tears.

"It’s not right,” Edelgard said. “Dorothea, please understand that I will do whatever it takes to get you justice.” _Even if Arundel himself demanded otherwise._

“What is with that girl?” Lysithea asked. “Hilda knew her before she was kidnapped, you know. She told me that Monica’s personality is completely different. That even before the incident, Monica was never so cheerful.”

“I guessing she wasn’t quite as sadistic either,” Linhardt said. “It is very odd, is it not? The way that they found her with Flayn…after a year, she was barely injured while Flayn had wounds all over. I do not trust her.”

“Please, be careful around her,” Edelgard said. “She is more dangerous than we may realize.”

A startling thought occurred to her. Hubert still nowhere to be seen. This was very odd. Anxiety welled up inside her. _What if…_

“Linhardt, will you please go find Hubert for me,” Edelgard said, trying to keep her voice level. “I need to ask something of him.” Linhardt nodded and walked out the door. Only the women remained in the room. 

“Edie, be careful,” Dorothea said. “She’s obsessed with you.”

“I have noticed, but I can defend myself, Dorothea,” Edelgard said. “You were harmed on my behalf and I—”

“You are my House Leader and my liege,” Dorothea said. “But most importantly, you are my friend. Of course, I was going to stand up for you, Edie. Everyone has noticed her odd behavior. Not that anyone from the Church cares; they’re trying to sweep this whole incident under the rug. That means we only have each other to protect ourselves.”

“But why me?” Edelgard said. “I am the very nobility that the Church protects. You hate the nobility, Dorothea. Petra, my people imprisoned you. Are you really—”

“I hate the nobility but I’m quite fond of you,” Dorothea said. “Of anyone who is going to heal this messed up world, I have faith that it will be you.”

“You are not the people who were taking me,” Petra said. “You were the first friend that was speaking to me.”

“I will ensure that Monica does not touch any of you again,” Edelgard said. “And if the Church will see those responsible punished, then you can guarantee that I will!”

“Ahem, I don’t mean to interrupt this moment,” Lysithea said. “But can I speak to you privately, Edelgard?”

Edelgard nodded. Lysithea pulled her into the medicine cabinet, of all places. There, pressed against the shelves, door shut off from the world, Lysithea broke her calm mask of maturity.

“I don’t want to seem like I’m, well, like a baby,” she said, recalling Monica’s words, “but I’m scared, Edelgard. This whole thing reminds of…well, you know.”

The experimentation. The years in the darkness. Tubes of blood draining from their arms. Vibrant hair fading to white.

“I am scared too, Lysithea,” Edelgard said.

“She’s one of them, isn’t she?” Lysithea asked. “Don’t ask me how I know. It’s a feeling.”

“Yes,” Edelgard said. “She is. But you must keep that to yourself for now. If you go around accusing her, the Church will ignore it, and you will be—” She paused. No need to scare her more. But the last thing she needed was for Monica to take revenge on Lysithea. “Just wait, Lysithea. We’ll find a way to deal with her.”

“Professor Byleth will—”

“Professor Byleth is with the church,” Edelgard said. “Don’t forget that. You know it as well as I do; Byleth is Rhea’s pet.”

“No,” Lysithea said. “I think you’re wrong. I think Byleth would be on our side.”

“You saw it yourself. Even Manuela is powerless to protect her own student—Dorothea, who she has known since before either of them came to the Academy. Does Byleth really understand what we’re facing? Does she understand what we went through? She does as Rhea tells her, and Rhea will decide to appease the nobility.”

Lysithea’s eyes widened. “I—I…I understand.” Her voice fell. “I know the cost of telling people this secret. I can trust you. I saw what you did in the training room.” She studied her shoes intensely. “I really like the Golden Deer and Professor Byleth, but you’re the only one who knows what I went through.”

Perhaps she didn’t want to leave them, Edelgard realized, but it was hardly a solid denial. Lysithea was sympathetic and that was enough for now.

Edelgard reached out a hand on her shoulder. “How about this. You become an honorary Black Eagle. If anyone brings you harm, you come to me. We have to take care of each other, Lysithea. No one else understands what we have been through. Not even Byleth.”

“I’d like that,” Lysithea said.

“I think Linhardt might like that too.”

Lysithea hemmed nervously. “I like Linhardt but…he doesn’t understand me,” she said. “He’s so obsessed with crests. He can’t imagine why I want to be rid of mine.”

“I understand you,” Edelgard said. “It’s my wish, you know, to create a world where there are no crests. Where people like you and I are no longer victimized.”

“Is that possible?”

“I don’t know, but I would like to try. If not for me, then for you and Dorothea and everyone else oppressed by the system.”

A knock came at the closet door. Linhardt stood there.

“I found Hubert,” he said. “He had collapsed in the library.”

Edelgard’s breath caught in her throat. Her anxiety returned full force, like a shock to the system.

"What? How?”

Linhardt shrugged. “Exhaustion, probably. You work him too hard.”

Exhaustion? Edelgard doubted it. Dorothea and Petra’s expressions said the same. What if it were malicious?

“Anyway, I helped him back to his dorm to rest,” Linhardt said. “You should probably check on him.”

Edelgard hesitated. Hubert’s condition gave her anxiety, but Dorothea had just been injured defending her. It felt wrong to leave her.

“Go on, Edie,” Dorothea said. “You need to make sure he is okay.” _You need to make sure that Monica didn’t get her hands on him._

“I’ll check on you later,” Edelgard said. “Thank you, Linhardt.”

* * *

Hubert leaned heavily on his desk, fumbling in his desk drawer for another vulnerary. His head throbbed, and even the dim flicker of a candle stabbed his eyes with pain. He wasn’t sure why he felt so poorly. He had woken up to Linhardt hovering over him in the library, and since then, he had been struggling to recall exactly what had happened.

His memory had shattered into pieces. He had been in the library. He recalled the specific sensation of blackness hugging him—like a suffocating mass expanding over his senses. He floated limply in a zone of empty dreams. And then—then Linhardt had been there.

 _What weakness_ , Hubert thought. He thought of Linhardt’s suggestion: _If you rested like me, you wouldn't collapse from exhaustion._ Hubert had been spending long nights studying the Agarthan tomes, but that was hardly out of the ordinary. Was he ill?

Someone knocked on the door, and then it opened. He tensed, but it was just Edelgard. Instead of alarm, he suddenly experienced a wave of mortification. How could he let Edelgard see him this way?

“What happened?” she asked.

“I am not certain,” Hubert said.

Edelgard coaxed him to lie down and then spooned him a dose from the vulnerary. “How do you feel?”

“Embarrassed that you have to see me like this.”

“ _Hubert_.”

“I am fine,” he said. “My head aches, but that’s the worst of it.”

“Was it Monica?”

Hubert frowned. “Monica?” Edelgard quickly explained what had happened at the training ground. As Hubert listened, something clicked. Forgotten details floated back to the surface.

"I was speaking to Monica,” he said. “In the library, but I do not remember what happened. She was starting to argue with me. I think she threatened me, and then I think Tomas came up at one point.”

“Tomas? Hm…anyone else?”

“Not that I can recall.”

“If Tomas was there and you collapsed, why wouldn’t he help you?” Edelgard said. “Even if it wasn’t Monica who attacked, he would have done something to help. He wouldn’t have left you there for Linhardt to find you.”

Hot anger coursed through his veins. Hubert swallowed down the urge to hunt Monica down and deliver swift justice.

Edelgard was correct. The more Hubert thought about the strange darkness that had engulfed, the more it seemed it had to originate from magical sources.

“Do you suspect Tomas may be your Uncle’s spy?” he asked.

"Perhaps,” Edelgard said. “It is very odd, in any case.”

“This is dangerous,” Hubert said. “Monica is clearly unhinged, even for one of her kind. My lady, we must proceed with caution.”

Edelgard nodded. “I have a great suspicion that things are only going to get worse. Now is the time to act.”

This was it. Things were coming to a head. Hubert grasped Edelgard’s hands.

“Tell me what to do.” 


	15. Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Edelgard begins to gather her allies, she must contend with the powerful personalities that control the Empire. A little white lie escapes her and could threaten her entire hold on the court. Amidst all of this, Arundel reveals to Edelgard what happens to her mother.

Count Bergliez hummed as he read over the letter again.

Caspar’s father strongly resembled his son in shape and size, with the same shock of blue hair and broad stature. He was a stout man, about a foot shorter than Hubert, but packed with muscle. His face had the likeness of a bulldog, his nose long broken and smashed in, heavy jowls swinging as he spoke.

"And you say Lady Edelgard requested this?” he huffed.

“Our class will be assembled at Gronder Field in a few days for the traditional Battle of the Eagle and Lion,” Hubert said. “She believed it would be remiss to visit your territory without calling upon you.”

“I had considered coming to watch the battle,” the Count said. “But I didn’t want Caspar to think I was overinvolved. A boy needs space. I’m sure you understand.”

“Nonsense, my lord. Caspar would be pleased to have you there.”

“And the Brigid girl will be there as well,” he said. “Probably a good idea to keep an eye on her. I disagreed with Gerth, you know, on sending her to the academy. We can’t be giving those barbarians any more ideas.”

Hubert bristled. Edelgard would not be pleased with such talk, especially against Petra, who had proven to be such a good friend. 

In some respects, Bergliez made an ideal ally. He controlled the military after all. His step-brother Randolph was a rising commander in the military and friendly to Edelgard.

Furthermore, Bergliez had abstained from the Insurrection of the Seven against Edelgard’s father. He had not exactly stayed loyal to the King either—unlike House Nuvelle, which collapsed in the wake of the coup. But there was still a chance that the count would take Edelgard’s side in a conflict.

On the other hand, Edelgard despised Count Bergliez. He may not have assisted with the Insurrection, but he valued his own House above all else. Despite controlling the military, he thought only of preserving his own lineage and rarely assisted with matters that did not directly benefit him.

“I’ve met the girl a few times before,” Bergliez said. “Cold sort of person, isn’t she? Always thought she was arrogant.”

“Lady Edelgard has become renown at the Academy for her good nature and prudent command,” Hubert said.

“Uh huh. And how is Caspar getting along with her?”

“She values his work ethic and integrity.”

Count Bergliez’s laugh reminded Hubert of a howling dog. “Caspar’s a good boy. He can be a bit much to handle. I hope that doesn’t bother her.”

“He is a strong and capable fighter,” Hubert said. “He puts that energy to use.”

“Tell Lady Edelgard that I accept her invitation,” Count Bergliez said, “And I would be pleased to have her visit Fort Merceus following the Black Eagles’ certain victory.”

“Thank you, my lord.” Hubert bowed to leave.

“Wait, before you leave, tell me how your father is.”

“My father, sir?”

“Yes, what is old Manfred up to these days?” the Count leaned back in his chair and folded his hands over his belly.

_Licking von Aegir’s boots_ , if Hubert had to guess.

“He is well, sir. His last letter read that he has been visiting Duke Gerth of late, assisting with the political situation in the former Nuvelle territory.”

“Your father is a good man,” the Count said. “Has helped me get out of scrapes more than once.”

This piqued Hubert’s interest. If Count Bergliez was relying on the Marquis von Vestra for assistance, then his problems were likely more than mere scrapes. The Count may have been landed, but the Marquisate held a higher rank. Besides, Marquis Vestra’s skills only lent themselves towards extreme solutions.

“He would be honored to hear such compliments,” Hubert said. This warranted further investigation. Edelgard wanted Bergliez on her side; if Bergliez owed any debt to Hubert’s father, Hubert needed to see it discharged immediately.

“I look forward to watching the mock battle,” Count Bergliez said. “Best of luck.”

* * *

The Battle of the Eagle and the Lion was meant to commemorate the final battle that liberated the Kingdom from the Empire all those centuries ago. So it seemed a little unfair that the Alliance students were winning so handily. 

“Hey Princess! Heads up!” Claude shouted to Edelgard. “There's a rat right by your Imperial feet.”

Edelgard screamed and twisted, looking for the rodent. There was nothing. “How dare you make a fool of me. You will not rile me with such childish tactics.”

Claude had already nocked an arrow. He aimed it towards her.

“Ah, so the sheer terror in your eyes was... something else entirely. My mistake. Anyway, it was only a j—” While Edelgard had distracted him, Petra had snuck up behind and rammed the tip of her blunted dagger against his neck.

“Point, Black Eagles!” cried Seteth over the field. “Claude, out!”

Claude sighed and tossed aside his bow. “You were lucky, your highness.”

Edelgard high-fived Petra. That left just Dimitri, Sylvain, and Ingrid on the Blue Lions, and Raphael, Lysithea, and Leonie from the Golden Deer.

Oh, and Byleth.

For some reason, the Golden Deer were allowed to have a Professor fight on their side, while the Blue Lions and Black Eagles had to battle on their own merit. Despite Hubert’s expert strategy, there was no contending with the mysterious professor who could wield the Sword of the Creator.

Already Dorothea and Ferdinand been taken out by the professor. Linhardt had fallen rather early to Lorenz, and Hubert found himself cornered by Ingrid’s Pegasus.

The others remained in the game, however. Bernadetta had somehow disarmed Felix and turned his own sword against him. Caspar had taken Hilda’s offer to “tumble in the grass” with her a little too literally. Surprisingly, it was Petra with the largest body count, moving so quickly that Dedue couldn’t even get a strike on her and dodging all of Ashe’s ballista arrows.

“Bernadetta, go after Ingrid,” Edelgard called. Ingrid’s Pegasus flashed over the field in a blur of white feathers.

Sylvain galloped towards the archer, and she squealed, rolling away as his horse bounded on her. Sylvain knocked his spear against Bernadetta’s arm. It was not judged a fatal hit, so Bernadetta tried to run away, but Sylvain rounded her and struck her a second time.

“Sorry, Bernie!” he called. 

“Point, Blue Lions! Bernadetta, out!”

Leonie’s arrows followed Ingrid’s pegasus, but Ingrid dodged each one. Petra grabbed Claude’s abandoned bow on the ground, nocked an arrow, and let it fly. One struck the wing of the Pegasus with just enough force to startle the creature. Ingrid struggled to remain on its back, and this gave Petra an opportunity to hit again.

“Point, Black Eagles! Ingrid, out!”

Two Blue Lions and two Golden Deer left.

And _Byleth_. 

Byleth knocked the lance out of Sylvain’s hands as he charged her. She grabbed the edge of the saddle and hoisted herself up. Her wooden sword banged against his chest.

“Point, Golden Deer! Sylvain out!”

In all of this mess, Edelgard sought her target. She knew that they could not win with Professor Byleth helping the Golden Deer, but if she took out both Claude and Dimitri, it would speak volumes about her leadership.

Dimitri had just disengaged Leonie. Lysithea fumbled with orbs of shadow in her hands, but he cleaved through her quickly. Caspar was engaged in hand-to-hand combat with Raphael. Linhardt screamed instructions from the side of the battlefield, and somehow with a firm punch to the solar plexus, Caspar beat the much larger brawler.

All that was left of the Golden Deer was Byleth.

“Petra, Caspar, go after Byleth,” Edelgard instructed. “I’ll take care of Dimitri.”

Dimitri looked over to her. “So, it is time to cross blades... I never imagined such a day would come to pass.”

Edelgard shrugged. “If the Empire and the Kingdom go to war, we'll be able to fight as much as we please.”

“I am sorry, but that is not something to joke about. The thought of fighting you is troubling at best.”

_Why did he care?_

“In that case, I wonder when you'll be able to stomach facing me in battle... Do you need a few moments?”

“Edelgard, I—”

She did not wait. Her axe curved through the air. Dimitri held out his lance defensively, and she struck the rod of the lance between his hands. His feet dug into the earth, but he did not give.

“You are stronger than I anticipated,” he said.

“You should not underestimate me,” Edelgard said.

Dimtri heaved up his lance. His raw strength startled her, as she stumbled backwards. Perhaps she had been the one to underestimate him. He swung around with his lance, but Edelgard dodged. The tip of the lance buried into the ground.

The Crests inside her beat. A surge of energy flashed through her veins. It felt like a fire dancing rhythmically inside her soul. As Dimitri tugged the lance from the dirt, Edelgard kicked it and snapped it in half. With her opportunity open, she raised her axe again and struck him in the ribs. Dimitri gasped as the air knocked from his lungs.

Dimitri’s eyes widened. “How did you get so strong, Edelgard?” He rebounded, his broken lance arcing through the air. He hit Edelgard’s shoulder, but it was not a fatal move. Edelgard slid out from under the lance.

She spun and dug her axe into him.

“Point, Black Eagles! Dimitri out!”

“Edelgard,” said a voice.

She turned. It was just her and Byleth now.

Edelgard gripped her axe. It was time to prove herself. Fire against fire. A hundred scenarios raced in her mind, but there was only one chance.

It was over in a minute.

“Point, Golden Deer! Edelgard, out!”

* * *

The cold, gray stone of Fort Merceus guarded the road to Enbarr. The walls towered over the road, blocking out the sun itself. The Stubborn Old General, they called it, a fortress as old as the Empire itself and as strong as the people who lived there.

After their defeat at Gronder Field, Edelgard was almost embarrassed to face Count Bergliez. He had treated her with good humor on the battlefield, congratulating her on surviving the longest. As she settled into the seat at his office, he repeated the same sentiment.

“I consider you the victor of that Battle,” he said. “If those Alliance kids didn’t have that professor fighting for them, they wouldn’t have had half the body count.”

“The odds are often unfair,” Edelgard said. “We do what we can despite them.”

“Well put,” he said. 

“I am pleased to have this meeting with you. I have long counted on the friendship of your brother, Randolph,” Edelgard said.

“Step-brother.” He was a bit too quick to correct her.

“Of course, my apologies,” Edelgard said. “I have considered making him a general in my personal service. Plus, I hear Fleche is rising quickly through the junior ranks. She is eager to make something out of herself.”

“So I hear,” the Count said. “Being so much older than Randolph and Fleche, we have never had the time to cultivate a close relationship. Their mother was never fond of me, anyways.”

“I was hoping that you and I could take this opportunity to foster our own alliance,” Edelgard said. “Your leadership of the Imperial Army was vital during the Brigid-Dagda war, and I remember the kindness your family paid to Gerlinde during the Insurrection of the Seven.”

“Gerlinde’s mother came from House Hrym,” Bergliez said. “That put her in a very delicate situation; after Hrym rebelled, your father tried to send Lady Natalia and Gerlinde away as part of his purge of House Hrym, but keep Thorsten, mind you. The boy had a crest after all. It was such a shame. I did whatever I could to try to save her, but apparently, the plague had already swept through the palace. I always suspected that von Vestra did something to her, but—” He stopped. “I apologize. I get so lost in these old stories.”

Edelgard had always considered Count Bergliez somewhat of a brute, but the way he spoke of the Insurrection told Edelgard there was something else buried under all that scar tissue. Perhaps this was where Caspar inherited his eager sense of justice.

“Why was it that you stayed neutral during the coup?” Edelgard asked.

“That was a complicated matter,” Bergliez said. “This is nothing against your father or your uncle. I sympathized with both sides, but I saw the cards on the table. The Ministers outnumbered your father. Even with House Nuvelle on his side, Ionius could never contend with the strength of the entire cabinet. At the same time, I wanted no part in his downfall. So I merely stepped aside and let fate occur.”

“My father is extremely ill,” Edelgard said. “And I have lately turned eighteen. Before long, I will be the Emperor.”

“I look forward to that day,” Bergliez said. “We have had a puppet government for far too long already.”

“And to ensure that there be no further puppet governments, I need the support of the nobility. What I need from you, Count Bergliez, is an affirmation of your loyalty,” Edelgard said.

Bergliez grinned. Someone had long ago knocked out his front tooth. If he hadn’t worn the bright red and teal livery of House Bergliez, she might have confused him for a common bar brawler.

“I see what you are here for. You want to assert your power. A defense of your sovereign right. Which, I imagine, must entail getting rid of von Aegir.” His fingers tapped rhythmically together. “What I ask is what will von Aegir do when you try to escape from his grasp?”

“With the Imperial army at my back, very little.”

Bergliez laughed. “Ah, and that is where you need me.”

“Yes,” Edelgard said. “But more than that, I have larger goals for the Empire. I intend make war against the Church of Seiros.”

Bergliez nodded. “A classic move. The transition of power between one Emperor and the next is always very fraught. You wouldn’t be the first to consolidate your power through a war.”

“Is that it? You’re not going to question why the Church?”

“I know my imperial history,” Bergliez said. “You forget that a century ago, my great-grandfather assisted with the Schism of the Southern Church.”

“So can I count on your allegiance?”

“I will consider it, my lady,” Count Bergliez said, “But I need to ensure the preservation of my own family.” Of course. Bergliez would do nothing that did not benefit his House. “What rewards will we receive from siding with you?”

“What would you expect?”

“It seems to me a pity that the ties between our families have collapsed,” he said. “Your sister, Gerlinde—may the goddess save her soul—was engaged to my son, Dieter.” Edelgard swallowed hard but nodded. “And her death brought such sadness. With your father’s increasingly ill-health, we have never had the opportunity to restore those ties.”

“What are you proposing?” Edelgard anticipated it, but she wanted him to say it outright.

“According to young Lord Hubert, you are fond of Caspar,” Count Bergliez said. Edelgard’s gut twisted. “He would make a very agreeable match for husband, would he not? He will turn 18 in a year. If I thought that perhaps our families were joined, it would make much more sense for me to throw my hat in your ring.”

“I see,” Edelgard said, “but I’m afraid I have been engaged to Hubert von Vestra since childhood.”

“Oh.” Disappointment laced the Count’s voice. “I didn’t realize that was still a thing.”

Edelgard’s heart was pounding. She didn’t know why she said it, and now it was out of her lips, she realized that the lie could no longer be contained; it was a wild, free thing now. But she wasn’t quick to correct herself.

“You realize,” the Count said, “that the Vestras have little to offer you compared to House Bergliez.”

“I realize, sir,” Edelgard said, “But considering their loyalty and proximity to the royal family, I would have to think carefully before breaking such a long engagement.”

“Indeed,” the Count said. “I understand all too well how difficult the Marquis can be. Well, why don’t we both think on it then. Perhaps you will find a way to make it work.”

* * *

Hubert waited in Edelgard’s chambers, idly dictating to one of the Bergliez servants how to unpack Edelgard’s clothing. They wouldn’t remain at Fort Merceus long—Claude had made them promise to return to Garreg Mach for some sort of party. As Edelgard entered, she sent the maid away so that she could talk to him alone.

She pulled him down next to her on one of the long couches and wrapped her arms around him.

“He seems willing to support me, so long as it is to his benefit,” Edelgard said. “He proposed marriage between Caspar and I.”

She picked at a loose thread on his shirt, studying the frayed ends intently. Looking at him seemed too much to bear right now. She felt him shift in his seat as she revealed it to him. 

“I said no. I told him that you and I are still betrothed,” Edelgard said.

Hubert exhaled heartily. “I see.” He cleared his throat. “May I ask why?”

“I panicked,” she said. “I cannot think of marriage right now. Especially not to Caspar. I suppose he wouldn’t make the worst political match in the world, but the idea of it makes me restless.”

Hubert’s muscles tensed. Edelgard realized the situation she had placed them in. When they were children, marriage was a transactional arrangement. To speak of marriage was nothing more than a formality, even if they were fond of each other. But since their betrothal ended and their romance began, the topic suddenly had taken on new weight. It was too early to speak of such matters, and here Edelgard had told a Count that they were still engaged. She would be lucky if the whole Empire didn’t know by week’s end.

“My lady, please do not do this for my sake,” Hubert said. “I have long made peace with the fact that you would have to enter a political marriage.”

"Yes, but I have not made peace with that,” Edelgard said. She remembered Gerlinde’s words to her as a child: _at least you are not engaged to a Bergliez._ If Gerlinde was still alive, she would probably have already become yoked to that ill-fated match. And now Edelgard would carry that burden in her place.

Edelgard sighed. “This is one thing that I want to control. Arundel ended our betrothal for a reason. It is clear to me now that he seeks to use me an incubator of a new bloodline for the Crest of Flames. And now Bergliez seeks to do the same, to trade his army in exchange for the rights to my womb.”

Edelgard finally snuck a look up to his face. He was not looking at her either. Instead, he wore a mask of stone, staring off into some distant corner, completely unreadable. She worried that she had gone too far—that she had fatally overstepped.

“You realize, my lady, that my father has long held the same designs on you,” he finally said. “That by resuming our engagement, we may inadvertently play straight into his hands.”

Edelgard tipped his face towards hers. “You are not your father, you know. Besides, we do not have to treat as a formal re-engagement, but merely as a way to buy ourselves more time with Bergliez.”

Hubert nodded. “Very well.”

Edelgard kissed him. It was meant to be a soft placating gesture, but he returned it with ferocity, deepening the kiss. She pressed into him, her fingers straying to his shirt buttons. Slowly, she began to undo them. She slipped a hand against his chest, and he uttered a single, unadorned, “Edelgard.”

“Stay with me tonight?” she murmured against his lips. Her fingers continued to push the buttons out from their loops.

Hubert pulled back hesitantly. Edelgard immediately regretted asking.

“As much as I would like to, my lady,” There was it again, the formality. “I do not believe it prudent while we are under Bergliez’s roof.” 

She tried to quell the disappointment, but he was right. If he stayed, they would cross a dangerous boundary. She had to protect her reputation. No use in risking Hubert being taken from her for good. Besides, if Bergliez suspected that she wasn’t sincere in her desire to end the engagement, he might retract his support.

After all, to be betrothed was a formal arrangement, devoid of passion or feeling. The idea that they might enjoy a marriage could not be tolerated.

She helped him rebutton his shirt, and he gave her a final kiss good night before slipping out the door.

Edelgard collapsed, frustrated, on her bed.

* * *

Two weeks later, a letter arrived for Hubert from his father.

He almost didn’t read it. Ever since news had come in that Remire Village was beset by some mysterious plague, Hubert had been scrambling for answers. He knew that Those Who Slithered in the Dark were somehow responsible for the tragedy, but their exact intentions remained a mystery.

The letter taunted him. Perhaps it would offer answers that he needed.

_Dear Hubert,_

_I have heard from Count Bergliez that Lady Edelgard herself has announced to him the resumption of your betrothal. I must admit that this news surprised me, as I would have hoped to receive such important tidings from my son directly. Understandably, the matter with her Uncle is still tense. Yet if discretion was what you preferred, I would hope that Lady Edelgard would have the prudence not to tell a Bergliez._

_What you should be aware is that Count Bergliez has also notified Lord Arundel. His aim appears to be to encourage Arundel to annul the engagement, no doubt to supplant you with one of his churlish sons._

_It would be beneficial for the family were Bergliez to withdraw his suit. I imagine this is why you wrote, asking for information regarding my prior transactions with Count Bergliez. I have enclosed some particulars that may prove useful to your goals._

_M.v.Vestra_

Hubert pushed down the wave of disgust, tossing aside his father’s letter for the packet of notes contained. At first glance, the pages appeared blank, but Hubert knew this trick well enough. He held the paper over the candle, just close enough to the flame that the heat warmed the parchment. Words appeared in a scrawl over the paper.

Hubert read the notes. Although Hubert loathed his father, he could not deny that his father was skilled in the arts of spycraft. The information was precisely what Hubert needed to bully Bergliez into dropping his suit. 

He hid the packet in the false drawer. Lady Edelgard would want to know that Arundel was aware of her machinations. Perhaps she could assuage her Uncle’s concerns before he became too interested in why she was speaking to Bergliez.

It was too late, however. As Hubert sought Edelgard, he heard a familiar voice echo in the Entrance Hall. Peering over the banister, he saw Lord Arundel speaking to Dimitri.

Now this was very interesting. Hubert pulled back behind a column to watch.

“I see,” Dimitri said. “So you'll be staying here for some time, then. Honestly, I'm surprised. I've heard it's been a few years since you last donated to the church.

Arundel waved a dismissive hand. “That was merely because of the financial situation of my territory. I assure you, it has nothing to do with my dedication to the church. Tell me, Dimitri, you have become acquainted with my niece, Edelgard, have you not?” 

Dimitri nodded. “Yes. She's in the Black Eagle House. Are you here to see her?”

“Naturally. It's nice to stay in touch with my dear niece every now and then. Of course I'm also delighted that I was able to speak with my nephew, as well. Whether through marriage or otherwise, family is family, after all.”

Nephew? So the rumors were true then. Hubert knew better than to ask Edelgard about her mother’s exile in the Kingdom, but many had speculated that when Anselma ran away from Ionius’ court, she had married someone else. What Arundel was suggesting was that she married King Lambert. That would make Dimitri her stepson and Edelgard’s step-brother.

Hubert had never considered this before. It would explain Dimitri’s insistent interest in Edelgard’s affairs. The two were hardly sibling-like. He could not really bear any brotherly affection, could he? Edelgard had only spent a year in the Kingdom—a year she claimed to barely remember.

_Foolish man_ , Hubert thought.

As Arundel passed up the steps, Hubert tried to appear as though he were just walking by.

"Ah, young Lord Hubert,” Arundel said. “You are looking well.”

Hubert bowed. “Lord Arundel, I am pleased to see you. My father just wrote to tell me of your visit.”

“Yes, I have delicate matters to discuss with my niece.”

There was a decidedly different air to their meeting here in the monastery than here was in their frequent encounters in the ruined fortress. They were both playing a role here. Arundel smiled, warmly pretending that Hubert was the son of a close friend, the same way that he had just professed that Dimitri was some favored nephew.

“I was just searching for Edelgard myself,” Hubert said. “I believe she is in the Knight’s Hall.”

“You speak of her so informally now,” Arundel noted. “I hope you have been treating her with the deference and propriety which she is owed.”

“Yes, my lord,” Hubert said. “She has instructed all of the Black Eagles to refer to her without ceremony. I am merely trying to model the egalitarian mode that she has requested.”

Hubert wasn’t sure why he even bothered trying to lie. Even if Hubert’s father hadn’t warned him about Arundel, Hubert could have surmised that he knew about the engagement based on his hawkish glare alone.

“Ah, Uncle, hello,” Edelgard said as she came into the hall. “A guardsman told me that you had arrived. What a surprise.”

Arundel held his arms out. Edelgard swallowed hard and accepted the embrace coldly.

“My dear niece, I would love to have a tour of your academy here. Why don’t we leave Hubert to his tasks, and you can tell me all about your time here.”

* * *

Edelgard showed him her dorm room and the library; they took a walk around the pond. Arundel spoke of trivial matters in Enbarr, speaking of the opera and some drama with Baron von Ochs. Finally, he suggested that they return to town for tea.

Arundel had rented a house to inhabit during what was appeared to be a long visit. It was in a secluded part of town, hidden behind browning hedges and a wrought iron gate. Inside, most of the furnishings still wore their white dust drapes. The house was just another mask—something to hide where he truly dwelt.

He seated her at a small tea table that overlooked a patchy garden. As one of his servants poured the tea, Arundel dropped the act. His voice adopted a more curt, cold tone.

“I wanted to congratulate you on your engagement,” Arundel sipped his tea.

“My engagement?”

“Yes, Count Bergliez mentioned it in his last letter,” Arundel said. “Considering how fond you have been of that von Vestra boy, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Edelgard wasn’t sure what to say. A thousand different lies and answers raced through her mind. 

“I would advise you to wait on such an important matter,” Arundel said. “You will gain nothing from marrying that boy. The von Vestras are already such faithful little lapdogs. Hubert would be forced to surrender his right to be the Minister of the Imperial Household and then who knows what cousin or uncle would inherit. It could be very messy.”

Edelgard had never considered that aspect. When she was a child, she had no hope of inheriting—in fact, marrying an heir to the position of Minister was considered a step up for a princess so low on the inheritance line. Now that she was the only heir left, she realized Arundel was correct. Consorts of the Emperor had to relinquish any inheritance to governing titles.

She was not certain why she felt disappointed by the news.

“A betrothal is not a marriage,” Edelgard said, “People were starting to question where Hubert and I were going together. A romance is a simple and believable excuse, and it keeps people from suspecting our true intentions.”

“Now, now, Edelgard: are you telling me the full truth?”

“Fine,” Edelgard said, “Bergliez proposed a marriage between me and Caspar. I did not want to offend, and since we need his support to enact your goals, I told a white lie.”

“I know your history with that boy,” Arundel said. “I warned you of this before, but the Marquis von Vestra has been salivating over you and that damn engagement ever since you survived the surgery. As helpful as your little pet has been over the years, you must remember where he comes from, to whom his loyalties lie.” 

“They lie with me.”

“If you are so certain, fine then. Continue with your dalliances. But be careful. Do not throw yourself away on a worthless romance. In any case, that is not why I came.”

“Is it not?” Edelgard said. She wasn’t sure if that the diversion was any real comfort.

“No, but I must admit, it provided a convenient cover,” Arundel said. “Bergliez wishes for me to encourage you against the engagement, and to quell his concerns, you can consider yourself suitably chastised. But what I am here to discuss is of a more serious nature.”

“Remire?”

“The Church is already aware, I see.”

“How could they not be?” Edelgard asked. Reports of strange illnesses. Mysterious unexplained deaths. Sudden eruptions of psychosis. Rumors had exploded across campus. “What exactly are you doing down there?”

“I am not directly involved with that experiment.”

Strange how easily the word experiment made Edelgard’s whole body seize. She was an experiment. Lysithea was an experiment. Who else would soon join their ranks?

“Does it have to do with the blood you extracted from Flayn?”

“How astute. Yes. We have begun production of artificial crests,” Arundel said. “We need more blood, however. Solon believes that we can use human hosts to generate the production of more crest blood.”

“Solon is involved?” She had met him once or twice. He was truly the most revolting of the Slithers that she had known.

“Oh, I would think with all your scuttling around, you would have discovered that by now?”

Edelgard took a leap of faith. “Solon is Tomas.”

“Yes.”

“He attacked Hubert, you know.”

“Attacked? From what I heard of the incident, he saved Hubert’s life. Kronya would have done much worse to him if he had continued to provoke her. Kronya runs a bit hot, but we must keep her around. She has her uses.”

“She attacked one of the students in the Black Eagles.”

“If she offends you, I will ensure that she is disciplined.”

“See to it then,” Edelgard said firmly. “Now, I wish to know more about Remire. They’re calling it a calamity. What exactly is going on there?”

“I’ll try to keep this simple. We could only take so much blood from Flayn. However, we may be able to produce more blood through creative means. The first generations that receive a crest are likelier to produce a major crest,” Arundel said. “You, yourself, bear a Major Crest granted by the blood of Nemesis, a first-generation carrier.”

“So you are transfusing Flayn’s blood and hoping that it produces major crests, so that you can use this blood to create more artificial crest stones?”

Arundel smiled. “I often marvel at your brilliance. It instigates, dare I say, a sense of pride.”

“Don’t flatter me,” Edelgard said. “I want to understand what went wrong. Why do they say there is some sort of plague?”

“You know the risks of Blood Reconstruction Surgery. We cannot afford to lose that many potential hosts. So Solon had some ideas about how to improve the survival rate. Of course, as you know, there are other side effects of such surgery, such as what happened with your poor brother, Thorsten.”

Thorsten’s madness had caused him to waste away for years after the surgery. Von Aegir stuffed him an empty wing of the palace and promptly forgot about him. Edelgard kept visiting him, up until he stopped eating and eventually died.

“I understand that you still blame me for what happened to your siblings,” Arundel continued, “but someday I hope you realize the gift I given you. You were always brilliant, but your rank in the family meant that your talents would never be utilized. Do not forget what your father did your mother. He found a young girl, barely an adult, fucked her, and then exiled her when her family got too difficult. I gave you power. I gave you potential. The world you so desperately want to change can only change because I gave you that ability.”

“And you would have given that to whichever of my siblings survived.”

“Now, now, Edelgard, let’s not pretend that you weren’t our favored candidate,” Arundel said. “You were too young perhaps to realize this, but you were amongst the last of the Hresvelg siblings to be transfused.”

Why was he telling her this? Surely he knew that the entire concept of her blood reconstruction surgery filled her with anger and vengeance.

“We spared the ones with crests until the very end,” he said. “Your crest did make you more valuable after all, but it was also a promise to your dear mother, who had aided us so much.”

Her mother? Arundel never spoke of Anselma. Edelgard rummaged in the besotted memories of her childhood—of that lonely year in the Kingdom. That was the last time she had seen her mother, and since then, she tried not to think too much about her.

She remembered Uncle Volkhard: the real Volkhard, the original one, the one who called her ‘El’ and collected porcelain animals for her, which she would arrange on her dresser. When he brought her to the Kingdom, she remembered him saying something about how her mother was no longer her mother—how she had become a queen to another nation, a wife to another husband, a mother to another child.

“Why would my mother help you?”

“I like to think that I am an improvement on the original Volkhard von Arundel,” he said. “The real one was an ineffectual chump who played with fire and got burned. He thought he was in the big leagues, playing with the Ministers of the nation, but he forgot that he had nothing to offer them. Once he brought the King under control, von Aegir had little use for him. You understand, don’t you, why he took you to the Kingdom? It was because those von Vestras that you’re so fond of were planning on assassinating him.”

Edelgard shivered. Why had it suddenly become cold?

“And you…what would have become of you? With your mother living in disgrace and your uncle dead, the von Vestras would have likely relinquished their claim on you. I’m sure you know what happens to young vulnerable women with crests.” Edelgard thought of Mercedes and Ingrid—of the wealthy scoundrels who coveted them and their crests. “They are preyed upon by lesser nobility, who take them by legal or physical force, impregnate them with a crested heir, tear the babes from their arms, and then cast them aside.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Ah, but it does.” Arundel refilled his teacup. “You see, your mother was so desperate to save you from that fate. The things she would do to protect your future.”

“What things?”

“She married King Lambert—an unfortunate match for her. Oh, he claimed he loved her, but he was afraid of starting a war with your father, so he locked her away. When her brother arrived in Faerghus, he petitioned King Lambert to see his beloved little sister, but Lambert rejected his plea. It was Cornelia, who you so despise, who so generously your mother of your arrival.

“After all that happened, your mother would do anything to see you again. She was the one to hand her brother over to us,” Arundel said. “In many respects, she blamed Volkhard for everything that happened. Still, she couldn’t keep you in the court of Faerghus. So she made us promise that we would make you our savior. Even if the others had survived, you still would have been our crowning achievement.”

“She knew what you would do to me?” Edelgard gasped. The idea that her own mother was complicit in the horrible things that had happened to her…Edelgard’s gorge rose. The teacup shook in her hand.

“Not completely, but we fulfilled our bargain,” Arundel said. “We perfected our technique on your siblings, and we were confident that you would be the one to survive.”

Drops of tea splattered against her uniform. Edelgard lifted the cup to lips, hopeful that it would soothe her nerves, but the touch of the porcelain to her lips made her gag. She slammed the cup down, and it shattered. Arundel sighed in exasperation. He handed her a napkin to soak up the tea.

“But that is not all,” Arundel said. “You see, your mother knew what had to be done to ensure your success. When the time came, she was unafraid to sacrifice even her husband and stepson for your future.”

Her husband and stepson? King Lambert and…Dimitri…wait, no, that meant…

“Are you suggesting that my mother played a role in the Tragedy of Duscur?” Edelgard asked.

“A role? More than that. She was instrumental in its conception and fulfillment. And she did it for you. She did not shy away from the darkness. Which is to say, that if she knew how eager you are to cast aside the gifts which she sacrificed so much to bestow—why she would be weeping in her grave.”

“So she is dead then.”

“Not by our hands. We offered her protection in Agartha, but she had little else to live for at that point. She recognized that she fulfilled all that she could in this life. Her greatest satisfaction was seeing you rise.”

Edelgard didn’t want to cry in front of him. Keeping the tears back proved a daunting task. She began to collect shards of porcelain in her hand. It brought back a sharp memory—Thorsten bumping into her dresser and knocking over the little ceramic blackbird that real Volkhard had given her. She had pricked her finger on one of the fragments, and it had sent her howling at Thorsten.

Years later, when she had visited him in the empty wing, she had found him cuddling a dead crow. Torn feathers blanketed the floor. _I broke your bird, El. I tried to put him back together, but I can’t find all the pieces._

Arundel snapped his finger, and the tea shards disappeared in a vacuum of darkness. All the little shards of her memories sucked into the void. 

“Her last letter begged a final promise from me. You should understand that I had no obligation to fulfill it, but I took her dying wish very seriously. I promised to raise you as my own, a task at which I succeeded beyond even my high standards of perfection.”

“Which is all to say, Edelgard, that sometimes we must make terrible sacrifices to achieve great things,” Arundel said. “Remire is just a footnote to the glorious history that you will create. In a generation or two, no one will remember or care about some silly little village, but they will remember you and glorify your achievements.” 

Edelgard wanted to be sick. She couldn’t look in Arundel’s eyes—those false violet eyes, those eyes that he stole from her uncle, the eyes that belonged to her mother, those selfsame eyes which adorned her own face.

“I am proud of you,” Arundel finished. “As though you were truly my own.”

* * *

It was late when Edelgard managed to return to the monastery. She still felt nauseous from her discussion with Arundel, and her hands hadn’t quit shaking. She entered the dining hall, searching for some plain bread or rice to settle her stomach. Hubert found her there.

“You look unwell,” he said. “It's because,” he glanced at a few guards dallying on the opposite side of the hall, “of what happened, isn’t it?”

The bread tasted like lead in her mouth. She swallowed a hard lump. “Don’t speak of it aloud.” In a whisper, she added, “Arundel…he told me what happened to my mother.”

Edelgard wanted him to reach out and comfort her, but this was not the place. Instead, he stiffly said, “You can't change the past. For now, all we can do is use this information to our advantage.”

“I know that. I also know that I must steel myself to ascend the Imperial throne.”

“Those preparations are going well. I have information that can aid us with Bergliez. We...” He halted. “Someone is coming.”

It was Byleth. She wandered into the dining hall and waved to Edelgard. Edelgard waved back. Part of her thought to seize this opportunity and to suss out Byleth’s opinions on Remire. But Byleth likely would not care. Byleth had chosen the Golden Deer after all. Byleth had cut her down on Gronder Field. It was time to stop chasing after Byleth.

“Hubert, I am going to bed now,” she said, turning away.

“Yes, my lady. Do you require anything else tonight?”

“Yes, would you bring me my sleeping medicine? I think I may need it tonight.”

It was the first time in weeks that she had asked for it. Hubert nodded. “I will boil the tea.”

She returned to her room and dressed for bed. She tried brushing her hair, but she only could manage a few strokes before staring off into the darkness. She felt the prick of the porcelain and Thorsten’s warbling voice:

_I broke your bird, El. I broke your bird._

Sacrifices had to be made. Blood would be spilled That was what she had said all along, wasn’t it? Those were Arundel’s words too. She had to be strong. She had to weather the storm. She could not let her mother’s sacrifices be in vain.

When Hubert brought the tea, she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face into his chest. She didn’t need to ask. He abandoned the tea on her desk and lay with her on the bed. This time, there was no protest as she unbuttoned his shirt or hesitation as he slid his hands up her nightgown. His hands felt warm on her thighs, but it was nothing compared to the heat pooling in her belly. She kissed him fiercely, as though he too would disappear in the dark.

She no longer cared if Hilda or anyone else found out. They were betrothed. It was a good lie, the kind she could cling to in the dark, the kind that would hold her as the nightmares frenzied her sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I vividly recall insisting to Manuela and Hanneman that it would be unfair for me (Byleth) to fight Battle of the Eagle and Lion, and my relationship with Manuela dropping because not wanting to give one house a literal superhuman advantage is apparently offensive. 
> 
> I also want you all to know the absurd amount of lore research that went into this chapter. I feel like I could write a dissertation on Imperial court drama now.


	16. Allies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hubert convenes with the influential players in the Imperial court. Meanwhile, Edelgard finally sees for herself what is happening in Remire.

Hubert was saddling his horse when Ferdinand burst into the stables. Ferdinand’s presence no longer inspired such strong feelings of antipathy in Hubert. Somehow, Hubert had begun to tolerate the man, although he was a long way from admitting any sort of enjoyment from of his company.

Ferdinand, on the other hand, seemed to seek Hubert out, as he undoubtedly sought Hubert now.

“When were going to tell me?” Ferdinand said. His arms were crossed, and he was clutching some sort of letter.

"Tell you what?”

“About your betrothal to Edelgard?”

Hubert should have guessed. The letter in Ferdinand’s hands must have come from his father. So the news had spread to Ludwig. Hubert cursed inwardly.

“I would have hoped you would realize the need for discretion in this matter.”

“Discretion? If Lady Edelgard wished for discretion, she should have known better than to announce it to Count Bergliez.” Hubert had never seen Ferdinand like this before, bristling and frowning and growling all at once.

“Does this news upset you?”

“The news is not what is upsetting me,” Ferdinand said. “As Edelgard’s future prime minister, I deserve to be privy to such important matters of state before my _father_ ,” Ferdinand crumpled the note in his hand, “tells me.” 

“I understand your father had pretensions to marry you to Lady Edelgard,” Hubert said dryly. “You must be disappointed.”

“Oh please, I never desired to marry Edelgard,” Ferdinand said. “I am merely…saddened that two people I considered friends would conceal such important news.”

Hubert sighed. Something like pity stirred in him.

“Count Bergliez proposed a match between Edelgard and Caspar,” Hubert said. “Your father, my father: every damn noble in the Empire wants their hands on her. Our betrothal is merely to protect Lady Edelgard from further intrigues until she can secure her position on the throne.”

Ferdinand had a strange expression on his face. Hubert wasn’t sure what it was. Relief? Understanding? Curiosity?

“You know, Hubert, that is the first time you have ever revealed any part of Edelgard’s affairs to me,” Ferdinand said. “You two usually prefer to keep me in the dark on your intrigues.”

“Do not make me regret it,” Hubert said. “If you speak of this to your father—”

Ferdinand scoffed. “I have no intention to encourage my father to pursue any sort of suit on Edelgard, you can be assured of that. Besides, you cannot convince me that this proposal is not at least borne of some sincerity. I realize that you two have been an ‘item’ since you came to the academy.”

Hubert almost laughed at the ridiculousness. “That is hardly the case.”

“Oh, really? All those secret meetings behind locked doors? Late night errands outside of the monastery? The constant compliments and flattery? I could lecture you on the impropriety of it all, but having no intentions on Edelgard myself, I believed it in my best interest to allow you to persist.”

For once in his life, Hubert was struck completely speechless. He disliked the notion that Ferdinand _allowed_ them to do anything, and the idea that had been subtly encouraging an affair made his stomach curl. That said, Hubert could no longer honestly deny the claims. 

“I hope you are not just now realizing that you can trust me, Hubert,” Ferdinand said. “I understand that Edelgard has her reservations about my father, but I am a different man. A better man. I would hope that you, of all people, could appreciate that.”

“Very well,” Hubert choked out. “In any case, I fear that the rumor has already gotten out of control in the court. I would prefer it if Lady Edelgard were not distracted by gossip and rumors within the academy. Keep this information to yourself, if you don’t mind.”

"Where is it that you are headed anyhow?”

 _Ah, yes_ , the saddle. Hubert had nearly forgotten. “Lady Edelgard is sending me to Bergliez territory to smooth over tensions. Count Bergliez is causing a scene, so I must mediate.”

That wasn’t the entire truth. Hubert was meeting with Bergliez but not exclusively.

“There’s a tea shop in Merceus-Town that carries a special blend of Seiros tea,” Ferdinand said. “Procure me a box, and I shall consider not revealing the news to Dorothea.”

“You are becoming altogether too good at blackmail,” Hubert said. “I am not certain that I enjoy it.” 

* * *

“I have a project for you,” Edelgard said.

“No, thank you,” Linhardt droned. He was sitting off the dock, legs swinging over the water, as his fishing line dribbled in the pond.

“You will like this one,” Edelgard promised.

“Doubt it.”

"I am not leaving until you listen to me,” Edelgard said.

Linhardt tested her patience for a full minute before reeling in his line. “Fine. What is it?”

“I have lately come into possession of some volumes on the implantation of second crests,” Edelgard said. Linhardt hastily scrambled to his feet, nearly knocking the pole into the pond.

“What? Where?”

Edelgard smiled in satisfaction. “Come, I’ll show you.”

Edelgard brought him to the Black Eagles classroom. After locking the door, she arranged the Agarthan texts on the table before him. Linhardt grabbed at the books so greedily that she worried he might tear them. Fingers flipped through the pages.

“Where did you get these?” Linhardt asked.

“The people who implanted my second crest gave these to me,” Edelgard said.

“So my hypothesis was correct,” he murmured. “Lysithea mentioned that she had undergone some sort of experimentation…”

Edelgard nodded. “Hubert has told me that the people who wrote these are intending to manufacture artificial crests. What I need to know is what they will be using them for. Any light you can shed on this matter would be appreciated.”

“Artificial crests?” Linhardt spoke it as reverently as a prayer. “Who would think that you could even do that? Who are these people exactly, Edelgard?”

“They’re very dangerous,” Edelgard said. “And they are everywhere. They’re here, within Garreg Mach. They’re in every court and castle in Fodlan. I cannot stress enough, Linhardt, how secret we must keep this endeavor.”

“Why are you trusting me with this?”

“Because I need your help,” Edelgard said. “Hubert has done what he can, but there is no one else who has your expertise on crests.”

“I am not one for intrigue,” Linhardt said, “but I would be lying if I said I was not excited by the prospect of learning about these crests.”

“Good, I can trust you with these until Hubert returns,” Edelgard said. “They are extremely rare, and if the Church were to find them—”

Linhardt waved a hand. “Yes, yes, I can imagine this would make rather fine kindling for Seteth’s fireplace.”

“I’m serious, Linhardt. This type of material is considered seditious. Recall what they did to the Western Church.”

“I don’t need a lecture,” Linhardt said. “I imagine if they found what I’ve been doing in the vaults, they’d probably lock me up too.”

“The Vaults?” Edelgard felt an urge to warn him to be careful, but she bit her tongue. _Don’t be overbearing._ “Never mind. Let me know what you find out.”

“Say, do I have to give these back when Hubert returns?” Linhardt asked.

“Yes.”

“I suppose you would say that, now that you are engaged and all. Oh, don’t look so surprised. Caspar’s father is a notorious gossip. We all received letters from our fathers this week.”

Edelgard groaned. How long until all of Fodlan knew?

“Why would your father be so concerned anyways?” Edelgard asked.

“Oh, well, he was hoping that I would woo you,” Linhardt said idly. “I made my obligatory attempt. You didn’t seem interested.”

"You did?”

“I did ask you once if you wanted to be my subject.” So that _was_ how he flirted. “No offense, but Lysithea is more my type anyways. I’ve never met a girl so fascinated by octadal glyph coils.”

“Ah, well I am sorry to disappoint your father. What would he think of you and Lysithea?”

“Well, let’s see. I’m not a princess, and she is the crested heir to a noble house, so I’m sure he won’t care,” Linhardt said. “Not that I’m considering marriage, of course. Lysithea doesn’t even want to get married, but she is just so interesting. I just feel like I could study her forever and never run out of things to learn.”

Edelgard wasn’t certain if Linhardt had just professed his love or his thesis. Linhardt had absorbed himself completely in the tomes by this point. With a deep breath, Edelgard tried to convince herself that this was the best move. She could trust Linhardt.

“Do you think Lysithea would ever be interested in transferring to the Black Eagles?” Edelgard asked.

Linhardt sighed. “Why would she? She’s the student of the wonder-Professor. The Golden Deer are a perfect fit for her.”

“Do you think you could ask?”

“I can’t even get her to agree to go to the ball next month with me,” Linhardt grumbled. A flicker of discontent crossed his face. “I don’t like this topic. Leave me alone. I’m going to read now.”

* * *

“Well, well, if it isn’t the future consort.” Eugenia von Varley braced against the gate, looking more the part of an assassin than a Countess. Tendrils of smoke curled from the long pipe pinched between her fingers. A cousin of his father, she had the striking height and cheekbones of a von Vestra, although her dark red hair distinguished her as more of a beauty. 

It often bemused Hubert that this was the wife of the Minister of Religion. The family had bartered her off to Maxsim von Varley to temper her wild ways. Some incident made her fall out of favor with his grandfather, although Hubert long suspected that she continued to gather intelligence on the religious sectors of the government for the family.

“Tell me, Hubert. Is this your choice or Manfred’s?” Lady Varley asked.

“Lady Edelgard and I were engaged when we were very young,” Hubert said. “Our engagement should present no great surprise to anyone.” Lady Varley rolled her eyes—steel gray, like Bernadetta’s. “I have great respect for Lady Edelgard and her family, and this move seems to be a prudent match on both sides.”

“A prudent match, ha. That’s what your father said about Maxsim and me. For the record, I have no respect for your father or my husband.”

"I can make both of those problems disappear.” 

Lady Varley laughed. “Oh, your daddy trained you well.” She drew her finger down Hubert’s cheek and pinched it like he was a child. “You brought me and Hevring and Bergliez here to ask for something.”

“Astute as always.”

“The real question is why did you invite me and not my husband?”

“You are family after all.”

Lady Varley laughed. “Try again.”

“I believe I am in a better position to make a deal with you,” Hubert said. “That is all.”

“Ooh, I must admit, I like the sound of that.” With an amused smile, she hooked her arm around his. “Well, let’s go meet with the dastards then, shall we?”

The servants walked them to Bergliez’s smoking lounge. Hevring and Bergliez were already two cups deep into their wine. While Eugenia smelt slightly florid from the tobacco, both men reeked the acidity of cigars. Hubert worried inebriation might interfere with their negotiations, but the two counts were determined to make light of the situation.

Hevring stretched his legs on a leather ottoman. Beside stout Bergliez, Hevring appeared wafer thin, with a sharply angular face. His once-blond hair had begun to fall out in patches, and his skin had a waxy pallor from long hours spent in dark offices.

“Well, now, aren’t you the man of the hour?” Hevring cackled. “You know, I’ve heard from friends in Garreg Mach that my boy has been courting a certain white-haired girl,” he teased. “You may have some competition, Hubert.”

Hubert decided not to correct him. “If that is Lady Edelgard’s choice, I will abide by her decision. But that is not why we are here tonight.” 

“Is it not?” Bergliez roared. “Lady Edelgard has yet to give me any other incentive.”

Lady Varley poured herself a glass of wine and sprawled on a velvet chaise. “Not unusual for you, Berg, is it, that you demand compensation in the form of a young woman?” Bergliez’s face ripened to tomato-red. His fists clenched, and for a moment, Hubert thought he might attack her. 

“Oh, and the silver spider herself,” Hevring said. “Rare for Maxsim to let you out of the cellar, isn’t it, Genie?”

“Let’s make something abundantly clear,” Lady Varley said. “Maxsim does not _let_ me do anything. I _let_ him think that does.”

Inviting Lady Varley had been a purposeful decision. Lord Varley was too turbulent and violent to make an appropriate ally for Edelgard, and the turmoil of their marriage was no secret. Besides, Maxsim von Varley was notoriously volatile. At least Hubert could reason with his wife.

“I will make my case very plain,” Hubert said. “Within the year, Lady Edelgard will ascend to the throne as Emperor. When she does, she intends to throw the yoke of the von Aegirs off this nation once and for all. Her immediate plans involve abolishing the involvement of the church in state affairs, an act that will likely provoke war with the Church and possibly with the Kingdom and Alliance as well.”

“Yes, yes, Bergliez told me as much,” von Hevring droned. “The point is this—why should we side with her?”

“Lord Arundel, as you know, maintains a powerful private militia,” Hubert said. Count Bergliez shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “And as Regent, he has approved of Lady Edelgard’s endeavors. This means that the nobility will be split. You will have your choice of siding with Lady Edelgard now or being crushed later.”

The three lords broke into laughter.

“Is that how you hope to curry our favor?” von Hevring asked. “Imagine! A child threatening us with war!”

“No,” Hubert said, “what we intend to do is to offer you what von Aegir won’t. It is no secret that your three houses have spent the last decade bickering, and von Aegir has no need to solve these issues, as the squabbling keeps you in check. What I offer is an amenable agreement to all.”

“Oh, this I would love to hear,” Lady Varley said.

"Why is Genie here anyways?” Bergliez scowled. “Couldn’t get Maxsim to show his face?”

“Lord Varley is unpredictable, and his reign over the Ministry of Religion has been fraught with turmoil. I believe that it would be to everyone’s benefit if we were to extricate him from the role.”

Lady Varley leaned forward, a catlike smile widening through her face. “Oh, I see precisely what it is you’re offering me. Is this your plan? To unseat Maxsim and use dear Bernadetta to control the ensuing religious discontent amongst the masses?”

Hubert had to admit, Lady Varley had surmised the plan fairly accurately.

“We can’t kill Maxsim, at least not now,” she said. “Bernadetta is not fit to inherit yet, and goddess knows how much the Varleys hate me. It is more useful for me if he is simply…out of the way. You understand, correct?”

“I can provide those terms,” Hubert said. Lady Varley raised her wine glass and winked at Hubert. “Naturally, in turn, I am certain that you would be happy to relinquish House Varley’s claims over the chancery.”

Von Hevring had sobered suddenly, as the realization dawned on him. Lady Varley chewed over the offer and shrugged in assent. 

“That would put the control over the courts back into the hands of the von Hevring family,” Hubert said. “A move that makes perfect sense, considering that you also control the Treasury. Of course, von Hevring, you would have to agree to provide adequate funding to House Bergliez for the continued upkeep of the military. Furthermore, von Hevring will assent to the movement of troops within the borders as Bergliez sees fit.”

Von Hevring pinched his face. “And the military? Would they yield to the authority of the civil ministers? I want the policy of civilian quartering of military agents to cease at once, and for the military to only operate conscriptions under the supervision of the civil agencies.”

Bergliez growled. “Unreasonable! I have stated a hundred times, if you want to cease the policy of quartering, you will need to pay to increase barracks in every city, an option you have repeatedly rejected. And handing conscriptions over to civil agents only increases the bureaucratic—”

“It ensures that the laws of the nation are being upheld!” von Hevring bellowed, “Had your fucking generals listened to the Nuvellian magistrates—"

“Oh, here it is again. Every damn time! You always bring up the damned Nuvelle Affair.”

Hubert’s headache grew. Lady Varley, he understood. Lady Varley had a simple desire: power. But Hevring and Bergliez squabbled over a more complicated matter: pride. Neither von Hevring nor Bergliez would yield first. The Empire could not win a war with the Church if domestic affairs were in such a tangle.

Hubert managed the negotiations until sunrise bled through the windows. Lady Varley drank wine straight from the bottle, laughing as Hubert struggled to find common ground and passing out several times. Bergliez nearly unleashed punches several times, and Hevring's face had flushed various shades of red and purple. 

“I don’t see why I should relinquish so much money to Bergliez, when Bergliez doesn't have to sacrifice anything!” von Hevring finally snapped.

“We understand that Count Bergliez would prefer to extend his territory in Hrym,” Hubert said. “Yet we ask that he abandon this claim. Lord Arundel would, however, like to increase his landholdings, and since the seat of Hyrm will be vacant after we deal with von Aegir, it only seems natural to grant him the Viscounty.”

“Hrym? Why in the world would he want Hrym?” Count Bergliez asked.

“Indeed, you would think the Aegir lands would be what he wants,” Lady Varley said. “What is there in Hyrm except rocks and dust?”

“Lord Arundel has expressed great concerns for the populace since Duke Aegir came in control of the territory,” Hubert said. This was a lie. Hubert had no idea what it was in Hrym that enticed Arundel so, but he had been firm in his demand that the territory cede to him. “Personally, his demands are quite reasonable. I do not wish to argue him on the point.”

“Very well,” von Hevring said. “Bergliez agrees not to expand his territory and to allow for civil oversight on conscriptions, and I will yield to increasing funding for the army and building more barracks.”

“Count Bergliez?”

“Very well,” the Count said. “And I want Caspar to be made an imperial general. And the discussion of Lady Edelgard’s betrothal is not off the table!”

“Agreed! I also demand a general post for Linhardt!” von Hevring said. “The military needs more brains rather than brawn, after all.”

Lady Varley made a hiccupping laugh and clapped her hands. “Oh, and Bernie too! Generals for all!”

Hubert wondered how well Lady Varley knew her own daughter.

“Very well. Does that mean you will commit?”

“With over half the six major noble houses committed, this may be a rather bloodless affair,” von Hevring said. “But we will need the guarantee that she will not interfere with our business as her father did.”

“Of course not,” Hubert said. “Lady Edelgard values loyalty.”

They didn’t need to know what was coming. Edelgard would purge the ranks, and their favor would buy their houses time. Eventually, however, even they would crumble.

* * *

Two days after Byleth left to handle the situation in Remire, Arundel summoned Edelgard again to his house in the town. To her surprise, the armor for the Flame Emperor had already arrived there. His servants clad her in the steel.

“I have something I would like to show you,” he said. “I think you are ready.”

He warped her away in a blistering seal of darkness. When they emerged, Edelgard inhaled a lungful of smoke. As her eyes adjusted, she realized where she was.

Several months ago, Edelgard stood upon this same ridge and looked out upon Remire Village, wondering what her future would bring. Now the same village burned in a black pyre.

Towers of smoke blackened the sky, and the air burned with a choking miasma. Fires chewed through the entire village. A whiff of singed flesh on the wind made Edelgard’s stomach flip. Her classmates were already below, engaged in fierce battle, but they were not fighting Those Who Slithered in the Dark. Rather, they cut down through giggling civilians.

Arundel—no, Thales came up behind her. He had abandoned his guise as her Uncle. Edelgard had glimpsed his true form many times before—veins of black twisted under the ghostly pallor of skin, and even his eyes were shock white. Still, she couldn’t help but shiver.

You wanted to see,” he said. “This is it.”

Villagers ran giggling through the fires, barely registering the fire as it consumed their hair and clothing. Many carried makeshift weapons—kitchen knives, castiron pans, flaming wooden pikes. They chased down their lucid family and friends, cornered them in ditches, and unleashed their violence.

But that was not the worst of it.

“Byleth, Claude…they are killing civilians.”

“The villagers have gone mad,” Thales said. “Your classmates likely think it a mercy to kill the villagers, and perhaps it is in a way. We could have provided the same mercy without wasting so much fine blood.”

Edelgard clenched her teeth. _Why hadn’t she intervened sooner?_ The scale of Remire was unlike anything she had witnessed before. They had abandoned their experimentations on single families and moved onto entire villages. When would small hamlets like Remire no longer suffice? When they might move on to larger targets?

“Now we watch,” Thales said. “We will see who will prove the stronger: Solon or Byleth. And if Byleth succeeds, well, then we shall see for ourselves what this professor is capable of.”

Edelgard watched the battle, unable to say anything without erupting in anger. She already knew who would win. Sure enough, it played out exactly as she anticipated. Just as Byleth was about to thrust her sword in Solon’s chest, he warped away in a pool of shadow.

Edelgard turned away. She could never approach Byleth as Edelgard, but perhaps there was a chance for her to listen to the Flame Emperor.

“Where are you going?”

“There is something I must do.”

Edelgard spotted Jeralt and Byleth talking, as the city smoldered around them. As she approached, she reminded herself that she was hidden under the visor of the Flame Emperor. Her garbled voice would sound to them like that of a grizzled man, not a trembling young woman.

Jeralt was musing to Byleth, as his daughter searched the pockets of an Agarthan mage. “They said they weren't picky about who they used as their "test subjects." Because of them, the people of Remire Village...

Edelgard, or rather the Flame Emperor, spoke: “There you are.”

Jeralt and Byleth’s snapped at the sound of her voice. Byleth whipped the spine of the Sword of the Creator while Jeralt readied his sword.

“That armor,” Jeralt said, “So, you're the Flame Emperor.”

“Yes,” Edelgard said. “I believe you have met my subordinate, the Death Knight.”

Jeralt grimaced. “Oh, we've met him all right. But back to you. You're the one responsible for the destruction of this village.”

“Do not get the wrong idea.”

“What in blazes does that mean?”

“It is true that I am working with Solon. But that does not mean our objectives are the same. Had I known they planned to do this, I would have stopped it. You have my word.” Guilt racked Edelgard. She had known what was going on—at least to some extent. Part of her desperately wanted to believe that if she knew just how bad things were here that she would have acted against Thales.

“Your words are meaningless,” Jeralt said. “Now, I'll have to insist you accompany us back to the monastery.” _Ah, the arrogance of the Church, to believe that she would follow him so freely._

“I cannot abide that. However, if you wish to join forces, I will hear your plea.”

Edelgard’s petition startled Jeralt. He sputtered out an exclamation of surprise. Byleth did not emote. Although she clutched the Sword of the Creator, she waited expectantly, as if understanding what Edelgard was about to say.

“If left to their own devices, they will commit countless more violent acts like this one. Do you not wish to prevent that? With the Sword of the Creator on our side, Solon would not be a threat.”

Byleth sighed. “I must refuse.”

“Pity. Though not unexpected. Pray that you do not live to regret your choice.” The words gave an illusion of strength that she clung to. It was so easy in all this steel and swagger to speak so boldly. When the mask was gone, who was she underneath?

“Byleth! Jeralt! Have you seen Claude?” Hilda jogged up to them. Their attention pulled away from Edelgard long enough to provide an escape.

* * *

Edelgard returned alone to the monastery. Thanks to Thale’s magical transportation, she could return in the space of hours, unless her army of classmates, who would appear in two days time. At least she had an alibi.

As she approached her door, she saw a huddled lump leaning by her door. As her footsteps neared, the figure startled awake and staggered to a stand.

“Edelgard,” Linhardt said. “There you are. I was worried.”

“What are you doing here?” Edelgard unlocked her door. She peered down the long, dark corridor. No one stirred. “Wait, in here.” She pulled him into her room. When the door was closed, she said, “what did you find?”

“The texts. I think I’ve uncoded them.”

“Already?”

“I’ve barely slept in days,” Linhardt said. Had Edelgard not been so impatient to hear his discovery, she would have registered shock at his admission. “I keep reading and thinking of what happened to Sylvain’s brother, Miklan. He used a relic for which he had no crest and turned into a monster. And the things these books say…Edelgard, where did you get these books?”

“Tell me, Linhardt?” She seized his shoulders. “What did you find?

“These artificial crests…I think they want to turn people into monsters.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any chapter where you get to mention the Chancery is a good chapter. There are so many good hints about the drama of the Empire in the library; it was really fun to get to explore all of those little tensions.


	17. Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bergliez threatens Hubert. Byleth interferes with Dimitri and Edelgard. And through it all, Edelgard tries to maintain enough control to get rid of all of her enemies for good.

On his last morning in Fort Merceus, Hubert woke to hands at his throat. Instinctually, he reached for the dagger under his pillow, but much stronger men pinned his arms down. As he tried to incant a spell, he found he had no voice. Some mage had already silenced him.

Two heavily-armored soldiers escorted Hubert down into the dungeons. Mold tinted the air, making each breath taste of dirt and decay. The guards shoved Hubert into a cracked wooden chair. Splinters crammed into his backside.

Count Bergliez emerged, hands behind his back, a coy smile tugging at his lips.

“What do you want with me?” Hubert’s voice returned in a squeak. Count Bergliez nodded to his mage, and the silence charm was dispelled.

“I still have questions for you, von Vestra,” Count Bergliez said. “It occurs to me that you stand to gain very little from this whole war that Lady Edelgard is planning. One must wonder what it is exactly that you hope to accomplish.”

"I serve Lady Edelgard not out of ambition but purely out of a sense of personal devotion,” Hubert said.

Count Bergliez laughed. “Oh, I understand perfectly. Every consort Ionius ever married served him out of the same devotion. Had nothing to do with their brothers or fathers or uncles. No, no, all those young beautiful women really just loved his aging mug and his jealous rages.”

“Edelgard is not her father,” Hubert said. “And I am not mine.”

“You have your claws pretty deep into her, don’t you?” Count Bergliez mocked. “Hardly different than what your father did with Ionius.”

“How dare you,” Hubert spat.

“I know for a fact that your engagement with Edelgard was dissolved after she returned from the kingdom,” Bergliez said. “Such an arrangement hardly benefits her. But the von Vestras have always had ways of getting what they want. Tell me, did you blackmail her into this idea or did you have to seduce her first?”

Hubert fought to urge to engulf the count in a whorl of shadow, to slowly choke the life from his lungs. Perhaps it would be more useful for them if Randolph controlled House Bergliez. Hungry, ambitious Randolph.

But a transfer of power in the army would only destabilize the nation. They needed strength and order right now. Bergliez would have to do.

“I will not tolerate such slander.”

“I’m no fool,” Count Bergliez said. “I know what Arundel’s private militia is like. Why even bother asking for my help? Of course, I don’t believe for one second that Arundel is satisfied with giving up his powers as regent. Oh no. The only reason to ask me for help is to ensure that Edelgard’s reign doesn’t become Arundel’s reign.”

Hubert steeled himself. “Surely, you understand what you have to lose if Arundel gains more power.”

“True, but I am no rush to put a Vestra in his place.”

“I am Lady Edelgard’s protector,” Hubert said. “I serve her—”

“Be honest with me, Hubert. Are you her lover?”

Hubert scowled. “I will not tolerate that accusation again.”

“I’ve asked you twice, and you’ve yet to deny it.” Count Bergliez laughed. “You’re threatened by Caspar, aren’t you? Did someone forget to tell you that an Emperor has many consorts? No, you want to keep her for yourself.” 

“What is it that you want?” Hubert asked. “Is there a point to this interrogation?”

"Yes, as a matter of fact,” Count Bergliez said. “I want to ensure that you stay compliant. Humble even. That you remember what your place is.”

Hubert seethed. “Just get on with it.”

“I can think of a better match. One that will provide mutual benefit to us both,” Count Bergliez said. “My sister Fleche in fact. She has no connections this world, save for that pathetic brother of hers.”

Hubert’s stomach dropped. He recalled Dorothea’s words from all those months before: _If Edie commanded you to find yourself a suitable wife, would you do it?_ Things had been different then, he tried to convince himself. This was not to Edelgard’s benefit, he desperately thought.

“That is not what you want,” Hubert said. “You want Fleche out of the way, but you don’t want her to marry me. Marry a Vestra and you risk her discovering everything. There are other ways…”

Count Bergliez scowled. “You von Vestras will certainly stoop low.”

“I’m not suggesting assassinating her,” Hubert said. “I have other methods. Tell me, Count, why was it that you stayed neutral during the Insurrection of the Seven?”

Hubert delighted in the way that Count Bergliez’s face suddenly shifted: the smug authority seeped away, as his eyes widened.

“As I recall,” Hubert said. “Von Aegir didn’t want you involved—thought you would declare martial law, steal away his little puppet empire. But von Aegir couldn’t risk you siding with the Emperor either, so my father called in on your debt.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t? Those favors my father did for you, don’t you recall? The assassination of your father. The sustained, gradual poisoning, which was meant to replicate a slow illness. It is no secret that your father favored Randolph for the succession—can you imagine favoring a step-son over a true-born heir? It was only natural that you would move to secure your rightful inheritance before Randolph passed the age of majority.” Hubert waved to fill in the blanks.

“Do you have evidence of these claims?”

Hubert laughed. “My father keeps trophies from all of his contracts. Just in case he needs to keep someone in line. Of course, if he were out of the way, you wouldn’t need to worry about such things.”

“This is an idle threat,” Count Bergliez said. “I have no guarantee that you wouldn’t hold the same sway over me. Your father gave me something I want. You only wish to take from me.”

“I can make your problems disappear,” Hubert said. “Your Stepmother, who is still tried to sue you in the Chancery for her widow’s trust? Randolph, perhaps, who is eager to prove himself?”

Count Bergliez rolled his jaw. “You, Hubert. You’re my problem.” 

“I am not going away.”

“If Lady Edelgard wishes for my support, she must understand that all of her advisors will take equal precedence in her court,” Count Bergliez said. “I will not have this empire controlled by two children.”

“If you understand what Arundel’s army is like, then you understand that you cannot stay neutral,” Hubert said. “Not this time. Either you join our side, or you join the losing side and condemn your entire family with it.”

Count Bergliez recoiled. “You will plunge this entire nation in war, then?”

“We have much bigger plans than that,” Hubert said.

“I will pledge my support,” Count Bergliez said, “but Edelgard must realize that this army follows me. If you truly are devoted her, then you will have to realize sooner or later that you will have to share her.” He gestured for his men to release Hubert. “Whatever affair you have going with her, end it.”

* * *

Hubert returned late the night before the class ball, but Edelgard was so swept up in the festivities that they had barely had time to see one another. Dorothea had tried to teach Edelgard how to apply makeup and managed to wrangle Edelgard’s hair into some obscene bun. But then Monica intervened, and Dorothea had to leave.

Edelgard should have looked forward to the ball. An evening of dancing and music. An opportunity to simply escape. She always loved dancing, but the opportunities were partake were few under Arundel’s regime.

But she couldn’t enjoy this now. Not with Hubert running all around the Empire trying to corral her allies. Not with Linhardt’s insistent discovery that Arundel was transforming students into monstrous creatures.

Everywhere, starry-eyed students danced and drank diluted champagne. Linhardt, it seemed, had finally convinced Lysithea to grant him a dance. Dorothea and Sylvain teamed up to coax Felix and Bernadetta to join in a single dance—which they did in an isolated corner of the hall. Seteth flitted around between couples, warning them from dancing too closely and turning red every time Flayn was invited to dance.

Despite Hubert’s threat to scare away the unworthy suitors seeking a dance, Edelgard had not stopped dancing since the music began. Her shoes began to squeeze against her feet, and thirst tickled her throat. Below her stiff collar, sweat mobbed her skin.

As another waltz _decrescendo_ ed to a finish, Edelgard tried to slip away, but it was to no avail. Dimitri stepped in front of her, and she was obligated to at least acknowledge him.

“Edelgard, may I have this dance?” Dimitri bowed.

“Of course,” she said, although her feet screamed for her to stop.

Dimitri took her hand and coaxed her back to the dance floor. The music swung into a waltz.

“I understand that you are a marvelous dancer,” Dimitri said.

“I would say that I enjoy dancing, although I have little opportunity to pursue it,” Edelgard said.

“I hope I am not too bold in saying this,” Dimitri said. “But do you…perchance remember the ball that we went to as children in Faerghus?”

_How many times would he insist on speaking of this?_ To try to recall one fragment of that distant year threatened to shatter what little peace Edelgard had left. Dimitri was beginning to become more than an annoyance; his presence turned into a threat.

“I am afraid not,” Edelgard said, with as much courtesy as she could summon.

“Oh, I was just thinking, of how you taught me to waltz.”

That did not dignify a response. Edelgard focused on her dance moves.

“I have heard that your Uncle is residing in town,” Dimitri said. Edelgard stumbled over his feet. “I have long wondered what exactly it was that called you back to Enbarr. Your departure from the Kingdom was so sudden, and you were not yet heir—”

“Why must you insist of speaking of such things?” Edelgard asked sharply. “Do you suppose it so strange that a daughter of the Emperor would return to her family?”

Dimitri glanced around at the other dancers. No one else had seemed to notice their argument.

“Is not awkward for you to continue this charade?” Dimitri said. “We are…” He glanced around again and whispered, “siblings.”

Rage boiled up from a deep reservoir, buried so far under the surface that Edelgard had not realized the strength of it until it hit her.

“No.” The word scratched her throat as it tore from her. “You are not.”

“You may not realize this, but your mother married my father—”

“My siblings are _dead_ ,” Edelgard said. “You could never understand.”

“I understand better than you think—”

Edelgard felt the warm burn of attention as heads turned towards them. “How dare you cause a scene like this.”

“I apologize. This is not the right venue,” Dimitri said. “I should not have listened to Professor Byleth—"

Edelgard stopped so suddenly that Dimitri tripped over her feet. “Professor Byleth?”

“It is nothing—” Dimitri tried to let go of her, but Edelgard strengthened her grip on his hands.

“What did Professor Byleth say?” She sought out the Professor in the crowd. Her gaze connected with Byleth’s for a fleeting moment, but Byleth turned away and disappeared into the crowd.

A shadow draped over Dimitri. “You are bothering her Highness.”

Dimitri’s cheeks had stained with embarrassment. “Must you always interfere, Hubert?”

Edelgard searched the crowd. There, by the exit, Byleth slipped out of the Reception hall and into the night. Edelgard stalked across the dance floor, ducking and sidling past dancers, nearly crashing into Seteth. Outside felt bitter cold against her sweaty brow. Byleth was hiking through the quad of the Officer’s Academy.

“Professor!” Edelgard called. Byleth’s pace quickened. Edelgard pushed herself to catch up. “Professor, please!”

Byleth suddenly spun around. Her wide eyes had gone frantic. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It wasn’t supposed to go that way.”

“What did you tell Dimitri?”

“Nothing,” Byleth said. “But he has confided in me about your relationship, and I merely encouraged him to reconcile with you.”

“At the dance? In front of everyone?”

“It wasn’t supposed to go that way,” Byleth said. “Something went wrong…perhaps we should have done this over a meal—we can try this again…”

“I would appreciate it if you did not interfere with my personal affairs,” Edelgard said. “I do not understand why you are such great friends with Dimitri and Claude but not—”

“You don’t need me,” Byleth said. “They—they need me. Trust me, El—Wait, I know how to solve this. Tomorrow, let us all—”

“No,” Edelgard said. “What is wrong with you? Why must you continue to interfere?”

“I am only trying to help,” Byleth said. “And yet everything stays the same.”

"Are you mad?” Edelgard asked.

Byleth’s watery eyes met hers. Like a flame suddenly extinguished, her expression changed. The frantic became stoic. Her twisted frown smoothed into a line. In a sober tone, she said, “Forgive me, Edelgard. It was not my place to interfere.” Her head swiveled to a dark corner of the courtyard. “Hubert is here. You should go with him.”

Edelgard had not noticed Hubert sneaking towards them. He lingered behind a column, his hands manipulating the shape of the shadows around him. The distraction gave time for Byleth to flee.

“She is a threat,” Hubert said plainly, as Edelgard marched towards him. She tugged the lapel of his coat and brought him into the brush of hedges along the wall. “We can no longer afford to allow her to live. Please, Lady Edelgard, allow me to take care of her.”

“Do you not think that will escalate our problems?” Edelgard said. “She has defeated Solon. She has anticipated our every move.”

“Do you doubt my abilities?”

“This is not about you,” Edelgard said. “Byleth…there’s something strange about her. I cannot risk putting you in danger.”

“Better me than you.”

“I said no, Hubert,” Edelgard said. “I fear that I may have to ask Arundel for—”

Hubert grasped her hands and stepped closer to her. His eyes had gone dagger-sharp, eclipsed by the night, his posture more wraith than human.

“We are running out of time,” Hubert said. “Byleth grows more and more dangerous with each passing month. We must act quickly if we want to eliminate the threat once and for all.”

“It is too risky,” Edelgard said. “There are other ways.”

“My lady, you must not be afraid of using me,” Hubert said. “I am willing to die for you.”

Something snapped inside of Edelgard. The fury she had felt earlier returned in full blaze. She tightened her grip on Hubert’s hands, until he flinched.

“How _dare_ you. No. You’re not allowed to die,” Edelgard said. “I forbid it!”

“I worry, my lady, that perhaps we have allowed our personal attachment to interfere with your goals,” Hubert said. “I am, first and foremost, your devoted servant, and I cannot allow you to—”

“Stop,” Edelgard let go of him. “Stop speaking. I cannot believe what I am hearing.”

“My lady, I meant no offense, but I wish—”

“I said stop!” Edelgard clamped her hands over her ears. “If you are so insistent on being my servant, then listen well. You are forbidden to die. You cannot leave me alone. Not you too.”

“Count Bergliez is suspicious of my influence in your court,” Hubert said. “If we wish to appease him, we must temper our—”

“I will not allow Count Bergliez to control me. I have enough overlords as it is. When will I be allowed to do something for myself?”

“I have upset you,” Hubert said, although he sounded more annoyed than contrite. Were Edelgard his enemy, that expression may have forecast her death. “I apologize.” It was a bland and unconvincing statement.

“You will not touch Byleth,” Edelgard said. “Promise me, Hubert.”

“I promise you that I will do nothing that will endanger you or your—”

“Typical,” Edelgard said. “This frustrates me to no end. If you are not going to listen to me, then you may as well leave.”

“Very well, my lady.” To her surprise, after a quick bow, Hubert exited the garden, leaving her—once more—alone.

* * *

Jeralt was dead. Dead by Monica’s hand. She stuck a dagger through his heart, and not even Byleth had been able to prevent it.

With this sudden turn of events, a somber air had descended over the monastery. Byleth’s loss became everyone’s loss. The last time Edelgard had spoken to Byleth, they had argued, and now things felt so awkward between them that Edelgard wasn’t certain how to approach her. It did not help that Edelgard had known all along what Monica was.

The day after the tragedy, Linhardt found Edelgard—adding to her surmounting pile of troubles.

“Edelgard, I need to speak with you.” His eyes bulged like a frightened dog. He dragged her into a forgotten corridor. “I have just spoken with Lysithea. You have heard that the Golden Deer went to investigate a disturbance in the old ruined chapel, right?”

Edelgard nodded. “What did they find?”

“They were investigating some more missing students. Some apparently went down there and…they were transformed into frightening beasts. Demonic creatures, like the ones I told you about.”

With Solon gone, Edelgard had hoped that things would have quieted at the monastery, but this was unexpected. No wonder Arundel dwelled so close to her. They were still conducting experiments, only these ones were taking place within the school.

First, innocent villagers. Then, students. What next?

“Have you spoken to Lysithea about the experiments conducted on her as a child?” Edelgard asked.

"Yes, but she wouldn’t say much other than they came from the Empire.”

“They did the same to me, and now they are using students,” Edelgard said. “You saw what Monica was capable of.”

“Who are they, Edelgard?”

“Hubert calls them Those Who Slither in the Dark,” Edelgard said. “I do not know where they have come from, but they are everywhere, Linhardt. And if they know what you know…I cannot protect you.”

“I don’t like this,” Linhardt said. “Keeping so many secrets…avoiding occult enemies…everything is so worrisome. My heart hasn’t stopped beating, and I can barely sleep. I want this to end.”

“Then listen to me,” Edelgard said. “And trust me.”

She knew what she had to do. Stomach sinking, Edelgard disappeared into the town. She would have to confront Arundel about this. She wound her way down the house where Arundel was residing. The guards tensed as she barged in, but upon recognizing her, they dropped their weapons.

“Edelgard, what a surprise,” Arundel said. He sat at the breakfast table, drinking tea and reading a book, so casually it was as though he hadn’t just assassinated one of his enemies. That he idled and sipped tea while Byleth continued to roam free annoyed her.

“Where is she?” Edelgard demanded.

“Who?”

“Monica.”

“Not here, certainly,” he said. “I cannot risk her being found in my household.”

“Then take me to her,” Edelgard said. “You both have questions to answer for!”

Arundel laughed. “All in due time, Edelgard.”

“We need Byleth gone,” Edelgard said. “Why not have Monica assassinate her? Why go after Jeralt? Why reveal yourself to them!”

Arundel sighed. His patience threatened to crack. “We will get rid of her, don’t you worry. The time wasn’t right.” Arundel sipped his tea. “And do be kind to poor Monica. She still has use.”

“What were you doing with those students?”

“I believe you know already,” Arundel said. “You have that Hevring boy looking into it, I thought?” It was as though all of the air had been sucked out of Edelgard. No matter how hard she tried, he always found out.

“She was spying on me too then?”

“For what it is worth, I think it is wise to recruit your peers while they are young,” Arundel said. “It will certainly make the transfer of power go more smoothly. I don’t know why you insist on keeping these things from me.”

“I want to speak to Monica. Now.”

“Not until nightfall,” Arundel said. “And certainly not as the Imperial Princess.”

Edelgard was content to wait. Arundel invited her for tea, which she did not drink, and supper, which she did not eat. Every time she opened her mouth to ask a question, he shushed her or made an evasive answer. It could wait.

Each time that Edelgard adopted the guise of Flame Emperor, the armor grew heavier on her limbs. She loathed the face of this infernal being. As Flame Emperor, she was nothing more than another construct of Those Who Slithered in the Dark.

The skin of Arundel’s face shuddered and wriggled, as though beetles burrowed beneath the flesh. His bones knit into a new pattern, as the pigment leeched from his hair and his eyes clouded over. He had become Thales again.

Thales took Edelgard to a dark alley near the outer walls of the city. He spoke some arcane spell, and the stonework reconfigured to reveal a door. Almost immediately, Monica sprung free, as though loosed from prison.

“Oh, thank you. You saved me!” She widened her arms to encapsulate Thales into a hug.

Thales stopped her with a hand on her forehead. “If you were to die, then the mystery of our bodies would be revealed. Preventing that was my only aim.”

“Still, I won’t complain,” Monica said. “Oh, your highness, you came too.” She winked.

“What were you doing with those students in the chapel,” Edelgard asked.

“Didn’t Thales tell you?” Monica said. “We were trying out Solon’s new crests. Turns out they work better than anticipated. Did you get a chance to see my creations? Aren’t they delightful?”

“No, I did not,” Edelgard said. “But I heard that they were abominations.”

Monica squealed. “What a compliment! Of course, you wouldn’t think so. You’re so dour about everything.”

“Are these the crests you made from Flayn’s blood?” Edelgard asked. “Or the ones you generated in Remire?”

“Does it really matter to you?” Monica said. “You’re so overbearing. Go on and micromanage some more, why don’t ya?”

“You will answer me!” Edelgard roared. “Why go after students? Don’t you have enough of your own kind to experiment on?”

Thales stretched out a placating arm. “That is enough, Flame Emperor.”

“So what now, Thal?” Monica chirped. “Do I get to join the others in—"

“No.” Thales sighed. “I'm afraid you must remain, Kronya. There is something I need you to do.” Monica clapped her hands. “It will be your job to get rid of Byleth once and for all. We are going to lure her into the Sealed Forest. She no doubt wants revenge on her father. Once there, you and Solon will ambush her.”

“Oh, of course. I am always happy to cooperate with Solon. Leave it to me.”

“How annoying.” Edelgard said. She came here for answers, and instead, she was just dangled about as a puppet.

“Is she offending you?” Thales asked. “Unfortunately, we cannot take our eyes off her, so there is nothing to be done. You are our greatest creation. We used the defiled beast's blood as the fuel to your flame, that you may burn even the gods. Now is the time to cleanse Fódlan of that power, and bring forth our salvation. This is our moment. This is your moment.”

“There will be no salvation for you and your kind,” Edelgard snarled. “Those responsible for such gruesome deeds in Duscur and Enbarr.”

“All so that you may acquire the strength you need.” He had the voice of a patient parent, lecturing her on her chores. “All for a purpose...”

Edelgard turned away. She could not tolerate any more of this. As she moved to retreat, she caught something in the dark--a glint of eyes and a gleam of yellow hair. At first she did not recognize it: the man stood too far off, snarling like a feral dog, shaking with rage.

“What is that?” she said. She reached for her dagger. “Someone is listening…”

“Hmph. Even if someone has overhead us, there is nothing they can do,” Thales said. There have always been rats in the walls, and there always will be.”

“Let us go,” Monica said.

“No!” roared the eavesdropper. “I will not let you escape.”

A lance flashed in the moonlight. As the eavesdropper charged towards them, Edelgard dropped the dagger in surprise. No, not _him_.

Thales sighed in exasperation. With a flick of his wrist, he enveloped them in dusk and gloom. The last thing Edelgard saw was the frenzy of madness erupting over Dimitri’s face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the chapter. Going to try to post again this weekend to get this back on a weekly schedule. Thank you for all of the reviews so far! They really make my day.


	18. Patricide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Jeralt dead and Kronya in hiding, Edelgard must put all of her steps into action, before Dimitri and the others realize what she is planning. Hubert plans an assassination.

Edelgard would have thought that her life experiences made her an expert on grief. She had lost so many people over the years that she no longer held space for new wounds. But as she approached Byleth, she realized that despite such extensive experience, she lacked any sense of what to say. The trite phrases and insipid condolences that others had once lavished upon her would not suffice. Yet there was nothing else that could be said that would be any better.

Edelgard found Byleth in the Captain’s Quarters. Byleth perched on the edge of Jeralt’s desk, hair shielding her eyes, a book cracked open on her lap. Grief was an ugly thing: a swollen, leaky, trembling thing. It rattled Edelgard to see Byleth freely sobbing, her hair unwashed and unbrushed.

“You're here again... Professor... You've been crying. So even you cry sometimes. Oh...” Edelgard covered her mouth. “I suppose that was thoughtless of me to say.”

Byleth slammed the book closed. Edelgard took a closer look. It appeared to be a diary.

“I don’t want to have this conversation again.”

“Excuse me?”

“Everyone, they all just say the same things,” Byleth said. “I don’t want to hear it.”

Edelgard nodded. “Only you can truly understand your own sadness. Others can sympathize or even empathize, but all anyone else can offer are the tears of an outsider looking in.”

Byleth sighed. She wiped away tears with her sleeve. “Grief never changes, does it?”

Edelgard nodded. “What is your plan now, my teacher? Surely, you must want vengeance?”

“The knights have already spread out looking for his killer,” Byleth said. “Even if I wanted vengeance, the monastery is unprotected. I am needed here.”

“The mysterious organization that was carrying out experiments in Remire Village and the chapel... They're up to something near Garreg Mach. And what are you going to about it?”

Byleth was silent. Her fingers wrapped tightly around the book in her lap.

Edelgard pressed on. “I fear that war is coming. Will you sit here with no thought for the future, or will you fight for what you believe in?”

Byleth lifted her face. “I will fight.” A fire returned to her eyes. “My enemies should take care not to underestimate me.”

“Of course not,” Edelgard said, startled by her intensity. “But who are your enemies?”

The fire flickered and died. Byleth’s mouth gaped open, as she struggled to form words.

“I thought I might find you here, Teach.” Edelgard’s hackles raised as Claude ambled into the room. “Not the type to wallow in solitude, eh?” He winked at Edelgard. “That's a relief, let me tell you. So… What were you reading?”

As Byleth held up the book, Edelgard quickly dismissed herself. Claude’s eyes followed her out the door. He shut it behind her.

The halls of the monastery were quiet. Rhea and her cohort increasingly shut themselves up in her chambers for hours these days. The knights fanned out over the mountains, searching for Jeralt’s murderers, but Edelgard knew that they would never find Kronya stashed away in the in the concealed cellar.

A neatly sorted pile of letters awaited her when she let herself back into her room. Hubert must have been there. He was avoiding her, she knew. Ever since their fight, he hadn’t allowed himself to remain alone in her presence. Even cornering him to confirm plans proved a difficult task. He would dismiss himself immediately after their business ended, and she would not see him again for days.

Edelgard certainly knew why he was acting his way. His words from the night of the ball floated back to her.

_I worry, my lady, that perhaps we have allowed our personal attachment to interfere with your goals._

Edelgard wondered if it made it her weak to want someone to support her. Slogging through life alone certainly seemed bleak to her. So what if she took a lover? So what if she wanted a human companion to comfort her? Such puritanical dogma was precisely what she wished to dismantle.

Edelgard shuffled through the letters on her desk. A letter from Ladislava, some news from Imperial Household, a missive from Bergliez territory…

_Count Bergliez is suspicious of my influence._

Edelgard shook the thought out of her head. She could admit that lying to Count Bergliez about her betrothal was a bad move. Certainly, it had gotten out of control. But the practical end of matters was that Bergliez still pledged his support to her side. Once she became emperor and deposed von Aegir, it would be difficult for him to revoke that support.

The message from Bergliez contained a highly coded letter of gratitude. In between praising her magnanimity and thanking her for her visit, Bergliez made vague mentions of “sending gifts in tributes to your uncle’s address” and “Randolph traveling to meet relatives.” So he had already sent the troops. Perfect.

Edelgard’s heart caught in her throat. Soon, it would be her moment.

She read the letter from Ladislava next.

Ladislava too spoke of meeting with Randolph. So they would be her commanding generals when the time came. She seemed to already be waiting in the ruined fort just outside of Garreg Mach. With the Knights of Seiros foraging for murders in the mountains, Edelgard hoped that Arundel’s strange magic would conceal their intentions.

The letter ended ‘your most devoted servant, etc. Ladislava.’

_I am first and foremost your devoted servant._

Intrusive, unwanted thoughts. Hubert spoke of distractions. If only he knew how agitated his stubbornness made her. The last letter bore the seal of the von Vestra family. Hubert’s father often sent updates on trivial matters in the household. Edelgard considered reading it, if only to discover if he suspected anything. But the seal had already been broken. Hubert likely already read it. She sighed and tossed it aside.

* * *

Hubert woke that evening to the sound of a soft whimper behind the wall. Edelgard’s muffled voice gasped and shrieked. Suddenly, he was wide awake, all sleep gone from his eyes. Bolting upright, he listened. The familiar cries and groans of Edelgard’s night terrors pervaded the wall. It was just another nightmare.

Despite the logical realization that Edelgard was _just fine_ and didn’t need him, Hubert could not help but feel a deep sense of alarm. His heart raced, and he had to physically restrain himself from getting up and helping her.

 _If you go over there, you will only cause more problems._ At this point, he no longer trusted himself to resist temptation. The rational thing to do was to stay here and avoid the provocation all together. He was no animal, controlled by base carnal instincts. His emotions held no sway over him.

Another gasp and whimper. Hubert’s resolve crumbled. Perhaps he was weak. Perhaps this was his punishment for hurting her Highness. If he was the cause of these nightmares—

 _No_. Hubert grit his teeth. He couldn’t be thinking this way.

 _Perhaps if he prepared her medicine…No._ He had to remain strong. Hubert held a pillow over his head. Where had he gone so wrong?

The next morning, he knocked at her door just before breakfast bell, as he usually did. Edelgard allowed him in coldly. She was still mad at him. They had barely talked in weeks. Hubert steeled his face and tried not to let his emotions show.

“Milady, are you well?” he asked, seeing the dark bags edge under her eyes.

“Pay it no heed, Hubert,” Edelgard said. “I need you to check on the fort and see if our friends have arrived.”

“Very well, milady,” Hubert said. “Have you given any consideration to my last suggestion?”

 _To kill Byleth._ Edelgard shook her head.

“I forbid it,” she said, “and I do not wish for you to ask again.” 

“Now is the optimal time,” Hubert said. “The monastery is barely protected and—”

“I said no,” Edelgard said. “The time is coming for us to act. I can feel it. And I need you alive for that.” For someone who often insisted that Hubert respect her abilities, she had remarkably little faith in his. Nevertheless, she had wished it, and so he would comply.

“Besides,” she added, “My uncle seeks to lure her out to the Sealed Forest. He wants Solon to take care of things.”

“Is that wise?” Hubert asked. “Byleth has already beaten Solon once.”

“If Solon is gone, then that puts us in a stronger position when I must extricate myself from Arundel,” Edelgard said. “If Byleth is gone, then I will be able to more easily dispose of Rhea. Either way, I must see it as a benefit.”

“You are thinking tactically,” Hubert said. He couldn’t help but smile. “There is one more thing.”

“Yes?” Edelgard sounded irritable. She likely thought he would bring up Byleth’s assassination again.

“There is not much time left in the school year,” Hubert said, “and I find it advisable for our plans to move quickly. With your permission, I would like to leave at the end this month to clear our final obstacles to your ascension.”

“You think we are ready?”

“I think that if Bergliez is anything like his son, we should not test his patience,” Hubert said. “Now that the nobles are your side, we must move quickly to secure your position. I do not think Arundel suspects that we will move so quickly. This may be what we need to do to throw him off his trail.”

“What is it that you are proposing?”

Hubert cast a wry glance at the discarded letter on Edelgard’s desk. He could see his father’s seal. “House Vestra controls all royal ceremonies, including coronations. If we wish to proceed, I must succeed my father.”

Edelgard took in a sharp breath. “What are you going to do, Hubert?”

“What I have needed to do for a long time,” Hubert said. “Ever since I first discovered what he had done to you, I have been determined to kill that man.”

Edelgard’s hands curled against his chest, and unthinkingly, Hubert clasped them. “Hubert, are you certain you will be able to do that?” 

“I have no feeling for that man,” Hubert said, running a thumb over the back of her palm. “Only once I inherit my father’s title will I be able to ensure that the palace is free of dangers. I can also then begin the preparations for your coronation ceremony.” He wondered if she would try to stop him. To his surprise, she nodded.

“Very well. When Byleth leaves for the Sealed Forest, you should leave as well,” Edelgard said. “Do what you must.”

“I will send word when we are ready,” Hubert said. “Once my father is out of the way, you can come to Enbarr, and we can commence the coronation.”

“The Coronation requires a representative of the Church to be legitimate,” Edelgard said.

“Leave that to me as well. Lady Varley is ready to act. With the support of the Ministry of Religion, we should easily be able to find a suitable representative.”

He was still holding her hands. Edelgard hardly seemed to notice, at least she didn’t until Hubert quickly released her. _Weak, weak,_ he chastised himself.

* * *

The month had passed quickly. Say what she would about Arundel, he knew how to lay a trap. As soon as the information filtered through to Rhea and her underlings that Kronya hid in the Sealed Forest, Byleth had wanted to leave.

Byleth’s departure also meant Hubert’s departure. The next time she would see him, she would be crowned Emperor. She had imagined that they would have reconciled before he left—that perhaps she would have caught him in the stables or said something better than goodbye. The longer their separation lasted, the more Edelgard felt her old loneliness creep back upon her.

All Edelgard had to do was wait. She hated waiting. She hated letting others take the risk and the fall for her. She wanted to be the one fighting, protecting, gaining. It all felt so superficial when others were the ones working for her cause.

When her nightmares came, there was no one there to comfort her. How dependent she had become on Hubert. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps that was a problem.

A walk would solve this issue. Curfew had long passed, but Edelgard found that she no longer cared if the guards caught her. A slap on the wrist from Seteth was nothing compared to what was coming.

A crisp frost livened the air. The stars twinkled brightly in the firmament. Far above she could see the sparkle of the Bright Star in the sky. She remembered the stories that Arundel used to tell her, back when he first slithered into her life: _the Fell Star came from that bright place and brought darkness with her._

So distracted by the night sky, she almost missed the figure lurching ahead of her. Dimitri gasped, and Edelgard jumped in surprise. Immediately, she tensed. Ever since the ball, he had avoided her, and she would have been lying if she said she wasn’t relieved.

“Edelgard,” his voice sounded uneasy, “what are you doing out?”

Edelgard shrugged. “Just taking a walk.”

“Is that all. Heh.” Dimitri sounded…odd. Edelgard remembered the frenzied gleam of his eyes that night, so many weeks before, when he had stumbled upon her conversation with Arundel. Now he seemed slightly off-kilter, leaning heavily to one side with his hair shading his face.

“Dimitri, are you well?” Edelgard asked.

"Yes, yes, I just have a headache,” he said. For a moment, he almost sounded normal. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Should I walk you back to the dorms?”

“Why are you so cruel to me, Edelgard?” Dimitri asked. His voice teetered back to the deep, throaty tremor. “I cannot make sense of it. Why do you despise me?”

Edelgard was taken aback. “Don’t be ridiculous. I do not despise you.”

“Unless!” Dimitri said. “Unless…no…no, no.”

“Dimitri, what is wrong with you?” She detected no signs of drunkenness, and she had never known him to drink to excess.

“It is strange, is it not? About Monica, I mean,” Dimitri said. “Say, you spent a lot of time with Monica, didn’t you?”

Edelgard inhaled sharply. Her blood ran cold. Swallowing heavily, she considered her next words carefully.

“Monica was not my friend,” Edelgard said. “She attacked Dorothea. If you do not believe me, you can ask Manuela. I suspect she was hoping to make me her next target. For whatever reason, she went after Jeralt instead.” Her hands instinctively reached for her axe, her dagger— _anything_!—but there was nothing there.

“Heh. Are you looking for something?” Dimitri pulled something knife-like from his side. Edelgard immediately grabbed his wrist and twisted it. The still-sheathed dagger fell to the ground. “I was just returning it. Don’t you recognize it?”

“Recognize what?”

“The dagger.”

Edelgard glanced down. It was her dagger. She must have dropped it when she drew it as the Flame Emperor. How would he have known that it was hers?

“Whose is it?” Would he buy the lie?

Dimitri’s eyes widened. “Do you not—? This dagger is a standard issue of the Faerghus knights.” _Was it really?_ Edelgard tried to remember how she originally came by it. “The Flame Emperor dropped it.” He was rambling now.

“You think the Flame Emperor is a member of the Faerghus knights?” Edelgard asked. “Like Gilbert or—”

“Do you really not…urgh!” Dimtiri groaned and clenched his head. 

“Dimitri, you’re scaring me,” Edelgard said. “Should we get Dedue or Manuela or—”He put out a hand to stop her from helping him.

“No, no, I apologize Edelgard,” Dimitri said. “I don’t know what came over me. With everything that has been happening…My head, it aches.” His voice resumed a normal pitch, but his dilated eyes blinked wildly, as though trying to shake free an eyelash. In one fluid moment, he scooped up the dagger and shoved past her. “Excuse me, I must go.”

Edelgard watched him until he disappeared. Her heart pummeled against her bones, the beat so loud she swore it echoed in the courtyard. She had tensed every muscle in her body, and only when Dimitri had long absconded did she begin to loosen her grip.

He knew. He didn’t realize it—not fully—, but he _knew_.

How much longer could Edelgard keep him in the dark?

 _That dagger…where did it come from?_ Edelgard had carried it as long as she could remember. A vague memory returned to her, of sitting in the carriage with not-Arundel, as they passed the border between Faerghus and the Empire. She had been gripping its hilt under her coat, staring in fear at the man that she had quickly realized was not her Uncle.

Memories thrashed at the gate of no-return, begging for release. Edelgard shivered in the cold. _Forget him,_ Edelgard pleaded with herself. _Make him one more memory to consign to the oblivion._ But as with all things, he too haunted her.

* * *

Hubert began with Varley. An unannounced visit, a coy excuse, some washy sentiments, and he guiled himself into the Varley estate. A brooding brutal thing, their mansion was, a square block of moldering stone nestled in the foothills of the Oghma mountains. Stripped bare of ornament, the walls bore only the faces of dead Varleys and the occasional religious relic.

Through iron-caged windows, Hubert surveyed the domain of Varley. The winter had stripped the gardens of its color. The estate boasted walls of browning hedges and the skeleton of a myrtle bush clawing up the garden shed. He imagined Bernadetta sitting at these windows, feeding her fertile imagination with these dire scenes to escape the horror of her reality.

“Are you well, Hubert?” Lady Varley purred, pouring him a cup of angelica tea. The tea had a scent too floral for Hubert’s tastes, but he accepted it out of obligation to his host. Eugenia spared a glance out the window. “The whole estate is in such a wretched condition,” Lady Varley said, “We go through gardeners the way some people go through parchment.”

“What is wrong with your gardeners?”

“Oh, who knows,” Lady Varley’s voice clipped with annoyance. “Maxsim always finds something. You wouldn’t believe how hard it is for us to hire house staff these days.”

“And where is your Lord Husband?”

Lady Varley shrugged. “He said he had business. He will join us soon enough. Fortunately for us, Maxsim’s habit of purging the staff means that he has hardly noticed our new friends.” She gestured to the guards at the door. Hubert noted that they were perhaps a bit too broad and tall to be the usual muscle of the Varley household. Their pikes gleamed, bright new—a gift perhaps from Bergliez.

“Have you prepared his new accommodations?” Hubert asked.

“I had all of the locks in the east wing changed,” Lady Varley said, “And I bear the only keys.”

“Excellent,” Hubert said. “We—”

“Sh!” Lady Varley placed a finger to her lips. “Listen!” A patter of hooves caught his ear. “He has returned.” Lady Varley sipped her tea. “Shall we speak of mundane things, like your marriage of convenience?”

Hubert scowled. “I hardly think such things are mundane.”

“Fine. Tell me about my daughter then. What scandals is she causing? I have long suspected she has an attachment to this boy from the kingdom she always writes about.”

“I must admit, I strive to stay out of your daughter’s personal affairs.”

“How dull,” Lady Varley said. “Of course, she would never confide in her dear mother. I just don’t understand that girl. Sure, her father would be a brute about it, but I encourage her to have a bit of fun while she can. And this boy is a duke or a son of a duke or something impressive like that.”

Hubert clenched his jaw. This was obnoxious chatter. He would have been just as happy to sit in silence until Count Varley made his appearance.

“Bernadetta is extremely shy,” Hubert said. “I have not noticed her making many friends at all.”

“Really? Because she only ever writes about these people from the Kingdom,” Lady Varley said. “Sylvia and Inga or something.” She waved a hand. Hubert frowned. He hadn’t noticed Bernadetta socializing at such length with the young nobles of the Kingdom. Yet now that he thought about it, he remembered Dorothea’s idle chatter about some misspent flirtation with Felix. Sylvain had been awful kind to her, especially after he knocked her down at Gronder Field. “Maxsim would not approve—”

“I would not approve of what now?” Maxsim von Varley’s fist was white around the doorknob.

“Our daughter having friends,” Lady Varley snapped.

“She better not have become a whore like her mother,” Count Varley hissed. “And hello, young Vestra. You certainly look comfortable with my wife.”

Hubert opened his mouth to protest, but Lady Varley beat him to it.

“Oh please, if I wanted to seduce a boy, I wouldn’t bother waiting until you were gone,” Lady Varley said.

“Slut,” Count Varley said. “But you’re not the only one playing at schemes, Eugenia.” His grin reminded Hubert of a walrus baring its yellowed tusks. A figure stepped up behind him. Hubert nervously jumped to his feet, hitting the table and spilling the tea.

“Father!” he cried out. Manfred von Vestra stepped into the room. His gaze immediately traveled to the guards posted at the door.

“Why, Maxsim, your militia looks to be very…well-fed,” he said. “You must tell me where you got them from.” Count Varley sputtered, staring at the men, as though recognizing their existence for the first time.

“Cousin Manfred, what are you doing here?” Eugenia asked.

“Father, I was travelling to visit you,” Hubert said.

“Yes, I know,” Marquis Vestra said. “Do clean yourself up boy. You’ve made a scene.” He handed Hubert a handkerchief. Hubert held it limply. “I saw there to be no reason to drag you all the way to Enbarr for a visit. Can’t have you distracted from your studies, can we?”

Hubert seethed silently. Hubert could not be certain of the extent of his knowledge, but this was no innocent visit. Hubert could count that this was as much his father’s arrangement as it was his own.

“You think you’re so fucking smart, don’t you, Eugenia?” Count Varley sneered. “Well, I—”

“That’s enough, Maxsim,” Marquis Vestra said. “Hubert, how many armed men did you count between the gate and this room?”

“Fourteen.” Hubert answered automatically, a well-honed instinct from his youth. It was as though he were sitting in his father’s office again, listing observations they noted on their daily walks. When he was young, his father would rap his knuckles for every detail he named incorrectly. As he aged, the punishments became more severe: the strike of a rod on the shoulders or a ruler against the knees.

“Do you normally keep such a large party around your estate?” Marquis Vestra asked.

“I-I…I do!” Count Varley said. Eugenia rolled her eyes. “Our vault contains many valuable relics and artifacts that, uh—”

“Enough,” Marquis Vestra said, parading around the room as though he owned it.

Hubert glanced again outside the window. A band of black-armored soldiers took station just by the gates.

“You brought your personal guard for a visit?” Hubert asked. 

“I suppose we could be coy about it, but I think we are all aware of what is going on here.” He passed a sparing glance towards Count Varley. “At least to certain degrees.”

“I know why you were down in Fort Merceus, Eugenia!” Count Varley hissed. “You little whore. You think I don’t know about you and Count Bergliez!”

“Sit down, Maxsim,” Marquis Vestra said with a sigh. “And let me handle this.” When Count Varley did not immediately comply, Marquis Vestra grabbed him by the scruff of his collar and shoved him down into a seat at the tea table. Then, with the delicacy of a gentleman, he sat opposite him and poured himself a cup of tea.

“Sit, Hubert,” he said. “You’re still sopping wet.” Hubert took his seat, ignoring his father’s advice despite his wetted clothing. “You are extraordinarily devious, Hubert. A master of dissimulation. I really ought to be proud.”

“Don’t patronize me,” Hubert said.

“I admit, it took me far longer to realize what was going on than it should have,” the Marquis said. “Of course, I do try to keep tabs on Arundel and his _friends_. Perhaps I grew too complacent. I should have expected this.” This rhetorical maneuver was a simple trick, to make Hubert think he knew more than he did and to provoke Hubert into revealing details. Unfortunately, for Manfred, it was two Vestras against one, and Count Varley hardly made a formidable ally.

“I thought we were done with being coy,” Hubert said. “If you wish to accuse me, accuse me.”

“Lady Edelgard is getting impatient, isn’t she?” Marquis Vestra said. “She’s ready for the throne. Understandably, she never liked von Aegir. I assume that she is ready to take control of the Empire. A wise move on her part. And all very nicely concealed. I trained you perhaps too well. You almost completely escaped my notice.”

“And you are here to…what? Convince us of the errors of our ways?”

“I am a little hurt that I was not invited to the roundtable in Bergliez,” Marquis Vestra said. “Of course, Lady Edelgard has never had much love for me—a misguided distaste. If she wishes to blame someone for her tragedies, she’s better off going after that Uncle of hers. But I digress. What worries me, Hubert, is _your_ involvement in this. I often hoped that your disdain of me was some youthful rebellion, and you could come to recognize the sacrifices I made in your name. But alas, it seems you are just as keen to blame me. In hindsight, I regret ever allowing you to spend so much time in the company of that _girl_.”

“That girl is your future Emperor,” Hubert said.

“That means nothing,” Marquis Vestra. “The Emperor has never been the one who rules the Empire. Not truly. When Wilhelm created the Empire, he was just a puppet of Seiros. If you let the Emperor have too much power…” Marquis Vestra paused and cleared his throat. “Excuse me. Too much power, and tragedies like Hrym occur. Ionius was nothing more than autocratic despot. Now that he is old and feeble, everyone is just so sympathetic. Edelgard will be the same. I see that same strain of madness in her.”

His words began to slur. He blinked for a moment.

“I had hoped,” he said, collecting himself for a moment, “that you were the engineer of this little engagement of yours, but now I realize she has likely been manipulating you this whole time. Using your pathetic infatuation to…get rid of me.” He inhaled deeply. Leaning forward on the table with one elbow, he smiled at Hubert. “You’re better than I thought. I didn’t even notice…you poisoning…the tea…”

“Oh please, don’t give him all the credit,” Lady Varley said as Marquis Vestra’s head struck the table. “The cup was already coated. To be fair, though, that cup was meant for Maxsim.” She sipped her tea.

“You were going to murder me!”

“He’s not dead,” Lady Varley said. “Just…indisposed. Gentleman,” she waved to the guards at the door, “we may as well just take care of this. No more reason for the pretense.” Maxsim fell out of his chair, as the armed guards came towards him. He didn’t even put up a fight, although he dragged his feet and howled as they dragged him out the door.

“I have to go lock him up,” Lady Varley said. “I suppose I’ll have to explain his new situation to him too. Take care of your father, will you? I don’t care what you do with him, but I don’t want a mess to clean up, understand?” She followed the guards out of the room.

Hubert spent several minutes staring at his father’s unconscious body. He had always imagined more fuss when it happened: a battle of wits or a physical struggle. He envisioned catching his father wide-eyed in surprise, giving Hubert the satisfaction of one-upping him for the final time.

Lady Varley had perhaps stolen that moment from him, but Hubert was too practical to allow such a fruitful opportunity slip him by. A dead father was a dead father after all, and Hubert needed to take his father’s title if he hoped to help Edelgard succeed.

He unfolded the handkerchief that his father had thrown at him and nestled it under his throat like a bib. Lady Varley had asked him not to make a mess after all. He had no dagger but a small razor concealed in his coat pocket. A quick deep cut to the neck. His father gave some resistance—a pitiful convulsion, an involuntary choke. The deed was done.

Hubert was now Marquis Vestra. He felt no different than before. How insignificant and hollow this simple action seemed. Hubert wiped off his razor on the napkin, waited until his father was completely cold, before wiping up the mess and tossing the handkerchief into the fire.

When he left the room, Lady Varley was returning.

“Well?” she said. “Should I call you Marquis now?”

“I left no mess, as requested,” Hubert said. “I shall assist with the disposal, but I must hurry to the capital to make preparations for Lady Edelgard’s coronation.”

“Very well,” Lady Varley said. “I have located a bishop willing to act as representative for the coronation. I will send him your way.” She grinned. “You know, this was much easier than I anticipated. What a stroke of luck.”

“It will not last,” Hubert said. “War is coming, Lady Varley. I hope you are ready for it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my least favorite moments of Edelgard's character is when she is outright rude to Byleth when she's mourning. And then Hubert's just like "I don't like condolences..." Oh well, I guess they really are made for each other.


	19. Crown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is time for Edelgard's coronation, but as she quickly learns, becoming the Emperor doesn't necessarily mean that she can rule...yet.

Green hair.

Edelgard couldn’t stop staring.

Green. Hair.

Nobody knew what happened. _The shadows consumed her_ , they whispered. _Her sword cut through the void._

 _Green hair_. Like the Nabateans. Like Rhea. Like Seteth and Flayn.

Was Byleth one of them? Edelgard couldn’t keep her head from spinning with possibilities. All she knew was that Byleth left with blue hair and returned with green. Rhea was delighted. Praises of Byleth rung out over every corner of the monastery.

Now, more than ever, Edelgard wished Hubert would return. She needed to consult with him on this business. She needed his logical and objective perspective. She was anything but calm right now.

 _Soon, you will be Emperor_ , she tried to remind herself. _Soon none of this will matter_. But she knew it would. Byleth was not some mere professor; Byleth was no mere crested mercenary. Once Edelgard had considered that Byleth was like her—an experimentation, a design, a product—but now she realized that Byleth was possibly something _more_.

The nightmares returned with a fervor. The Sword of the Creator glowed ember-bright, the sharp whip of its blade striking against the darkness.

Awash in perspiration, Edelgard watched the dark shapes of her imagination drift across the ceiling. She recalled the rattle of the carriage as it took her out of the Kingdom. The memory returned to her now, complete, full.

“Do you know why we call the goddess the Fell Star?” Arundel had asked her. She had not. The very idea made her flinch. Had not her Uncle taught her how to pray at night? Had he not given her a gold piece every week to drop in the Church’s collection plate? “She descended from the star of Calamity, raining ash and fire upon this world.”

“The star of calamity?”

“Yes, child. The star we called Sirius.” Arundel said. “Long ago, before the false goddess stole this land from us, we worshipped the true gods. But the Fell Star was jealous of their fertile fields, and so she sought to take them for her own children.”

“But the goddess created us—”

“No, the Goddess stole from us!” Arundel hissed. “She subjugated humankind, and when we would not bow, she flooded the earth. Many proud lands sank beneath the ocean. Those who did not flee underground were killed. And then she filled our lands with the blood of her wicked kind—the Nabateans.”

“Why are they bad?”

“The things you call crests…each Nabataean bore on in their heart, their bones, their blood. To keep humans servile to their kind, they tempted them with power. The humans that assisted them with their dark deeds were given crests, and the others? Nothing! Quite unfair, isn’t it, little Edelgard.”

He called her Edelgard and not El, and she didn’t bother to correct him. Her hands clenched the dagger inside her coat.

“Shouldn’t that power belong to humanity, little Edelgard?” he said. “Don’t you think it’s wrong for the scary Nabateans to hold that over us?”

“Why are you saying this?”

“Because,” She would never forget Arundel’s smile, “We’re going to take that power back. We’re going to make that power ours.”

She woke, mid-memory, clutching at the sheets. And all she could think about was the same thought that plagued little Edelgard: _The crests are to blame for this. The crests have made everything wrong._

* * *

Finally, the letter arrived.

 _It is time,_ it read in Hubert’s fine hand.

Bergliez teal banners awaited Edelgard near the ruins of Remire. She rode to Enbarr with a party of six men in flashing plate. When they reached the gates of Enbarr, an emissary bearing the seal of Hevring joined her. Her entrance into the city came with little fanfare. Instead of the palace, her company guided her quietly to the Cathedral.

Overlooking the doors of the Cathedral, a shattered flagstone still bore the scars of an ancient seal. The Seal of the Southern Church, long dissolved. The Archbishop had ordered the destruction of its emblems across Enbarr, but its legacy existed in the ruined, broken pieces left behind.

Unlike the Cathedral of Garreg Mach, Enbarr’s church emanated with more solemnity than grandeur—a dark, cloistered chamber, overlooked by the sneering faces of gargoyles and gasping angels. Unlike the draconic saints of Seiros’ army, the statues depicted human apostles and martyrs, those who had given their lives for the Empire. Edelgard wondered if one day her image would number amongst those monuments. Part of her hoped such remembrances would no longer be needed.

At the end of the long aisle, Hubert stood in conversation with a hooded bishop. Edelgard could not help but feel relieved upon seeing him. He no longer wore the uniform of Garreg Mach but instead a sharply tailored suit of black that outlined his slim figure. He appeared older, more mature, a thought that warmed Edelgard’s cheeks. _More distraction_. Not what she needed right now.

He bowed as she approached.

“Milady,” he droned, “I am pleased to see that you have arrived.”

“Are the preparations complete?”

Hubert nodded. “Father Matthias here will sanctify the coronation. Lady Varley suggested that we use a member of the Underground Church of the South. I believe that may strengthen our position during the inevitable schism.”

“Yes, that sounds wise,” Edelgard said. “And my father?”

“I have managed to communicate to him our plans,” Hubert said. “However, we will not be able to confirm his willingness until you meet with him. When you are ready, I have stored the coronation regalia in the backroom.”

“I would like to take care of this immediately,” Edelgard said.

“Very well,” Hubert said. “Von Aegir will be attending the theater tonight. We shall make our move in his absence. In the meantime, I suggest you rest and prepare.”

But Edelgard could not rest. Neither food nor drink calmed her nerves. Her whole body buzzed with electric fear. Hubert forced her to sit in one of the pews so that she would cease pacing around the sanctuary. She read over the coronation vow again and again, memorizing each word, muttering it under her breath. She continued until Hubert prised the paper from her hands.

“Milady, you must relax,” Hubert said. “All is going according to plan. There is nothing that can stop you now.”

Edelgard nodded. “Speak to me of other matters. What happened at the Varley estate?”

Hubert cleared his throat. “My father made an attempt to intervene on our plans,” Hubert said. “He is dead now.”

The news struck her oddly. She had known that his father would die, but still, it seemed so strange to her. She had expected news of the assassination to erupt suddenly, not stated so nonchalantly like a report of bad weather.

“You are Marquis then? Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

It was strange for Edelgard to consider. Marquis Vestra had always referred to Hubert’s severe, cold father. Hubert wore the title naturally. He seemed so much more adult now—and Edelgard realized that in the span of the hour, she would wear an even weightier title.

“It is an inconsequential title attached to an inconsequential man,” Hubert said. “What matters is that Lord Varley was subdued, and our plans proceeded without further interruption. I do not believe Aegir has even realized that my father is dead.”

“But…how are you?” Edelgard asked. She kept her voice hushed, as though it were a secret from the acolytes. Or rather, like she was trying to disguise the intimacy of the question. Hubert, as usual, never revealed an iota of emotion.

“I had no respect for my father,” Hubert said. “I suppose patricide is considered a particularly grave sin, but to say that I feel any sort of remorse would be a lie.” He had carefully ironed out the wrinkles of expression from his face. Even Edelgard found it difficult to read him. Part of her wanted him to open up, to spill out what he was really thinking, but this was not the right moment.

A messenger slipped into the church. Hubert left Edeglard’s side to speak with him. He turned back to her. “It is time, my lady.”

Edelgard inhaled deeply and squared her shoulders. _It was time._

* * *

The polished black marble titles of the throne room mirrored Edelgard’s steps as they charged into the chamber. She was a sight to behold: flanked by Bergliez’s best men, the gold-fringed regalia of a clandestine bishop at her heels, and shadowed by Hubert himself. Edelgard felt small beside such looming figures, but her petite frame belied her strength.

Their party quickly attracted attention. A steward met them before the throne, tripping over his own feet as he met them. Whispers in the corner noted the long train of her coronation dress.

“Summon my father,” Edelgard said. Her voice echoed in the highest chambers of the throne room. “Immediately.”

“Milady, your father is very ill,” the steward tittered. “Von Aegir has stated—”

“Will you deny the Imperial Princess’s wish to see her father?” Hubert barked.

The steward shook his head. “No, of course not, but perhaps tomorrow would be better—”

“Now,” Edelgard said with finality.

The steward clapped his hands, and vassals swarmed to fulfill her orders. The wait stretched on forever. Edelgard had to force herself not to fidget. After fifteen eternal minutes, her father emerged, held up by two servants.

Ionius appeared weaker than the last time Edelgard had seen him. Lines dragged his cheeks, and his hair had faded to a more severe shade of white. A small smile appeared as he saw Edelgard. His vassals helped lower him to his throne. As soon as he was seated, his hands reached out for Edelgard.

Edelgard approached and sunk into his arms. For a moment, she allowed herself to be comforted. A familiar, nostalgic feeling returned her of a time long before the dark experiments and seditious coup that brought her here.

“Father, forgive me for asking this of you.” Edelgard pulled away. “I know how much pain you're in--how the burden of the throne weighs heavily on you--and so—"

Ionius stroked her cheek. There is no need to apologize, Edelgard. You must know...” A cough racked his body. She could feel his lungs seize through his ribs. “that I do not have much time left in this world. The time has come.” More coughing. Edelgard stepped back from the throne.

“Thank you, Father. Now, to complete the Imperial succession, you must relinquish your crown here in the throne room. From this day forward, the weight of the Empire's future shall rest upon my shoulders. All that I do will be for the benefit of the people of Fódlan.”

Ionius gestured to one of his attendants. They had brought with them a box upholstered in red and black velvet. From it, Ionius lifted the sovereign crown of Adrestia. At the apex of the crown, two eagles made of twisted black steel intertwined with the gold setting.

Edelgard kneeled at his feet. Ionius wavered as he stood, held up by his servants.

“Edelgard von Hresvelg, the crown is yours.” Cold metal bit into her brow. The crown pressed against her temples. “By the covenant between the red blood and the white sword, and by the double-headed eagle upon your head, I hereby pronounce you the new emperor. Are you prepared to take those responsibilities as your own?”

Edelgard repeated the over-practiced words. “In accordance with the ancient covenant, and in keeping with the Hresvelg legacy... I swear that upon this throne, I shall use my reign to lead Fódlan to a new dawn and achieve peace for all.”

Ionius released a smile. “The Imperial succession is complete.” His body shuddered as he burst into fitful coughing. “My daughter, I regret that I could not do more for you. When you were stolen away to the Kingdom, when the prime minister did those horrible things, I could only watch in horror.”

Edelgard closed her eyes. She did not wish to revisit that moment of weakness, not now, not when she had to be strong.

“I-- I understand, Father. In those dark times, your eyes and your fists were my salvation. Within your eyes, I saw true care. And upon your fists clenched tight with indignity, I saw the blood that dripped and fell. Even as I bled, I felt that you, too, must also be bleeding.”

The doors of the throne room burst open. Angry footsteps struck the tiles. Edelgard turned. Duke von Aegir had entered, still dressed for the theater, the scuttling steward from earlier clinging to his back.

“Your majesty! You must not leave your sleeping chambers in your condition.” He stopped short. “Ah, Edelgard. What a surprise. Aren’t you supposed to be at school?”

“Prime Minister, you have misspoken,” Edelgard said. She could not help but feel pride in her sudden elevation. “I am no longer ‘your Highness’ but rather ‘your majesty.’”

Duke Aegir laughed at first, but his mirth quickly died. He glanced at Hubert.

“Ah, and you’ve brought von Vestra with you. Say, Hubert, where is your father. I am used to his disappearing but never like this.”

“My father is dead,” Hubert said. “I am now Marquis.”

Now it was Duke Aegir’s turn to sputter and cough. “Impossible!” It was as if the full weight of Edelgard’s words dropped on him all at once. “Edelgard, are you really…”

Ionius spoke. “It is true. Edelgard is the new emperor of the Adrestian Empire. We will summon the officials, and prepare an ordinance at once. And you, Prime Minister—"

Edelgard cut in sharply. “--are dismissed. It will be some time before you are allowed to make contact with the outside world again.”

“No! How can this be?!” Duke Aegir backed up against the wall. Edelgard gestured with her hand, and Bergliez’s men closed in on Duke Aegir. His eyes widened. More guards had sprung from his only exit. There was no escape. “I- Understood, Your Majesty.” He held his hands up in surrender.

Ionius burst into more violent coughing. One of his attendants dabbed a spittle of blood from his lips. “Edelgard... My dear El, I leave the fate of Fódlan in your capable hands.”

It pained Edelgard to see her father in such a poor condition. He was not long for the world. She would have to return to the monastery soon. She only hoped that they could settle their final business there quickly so that she could return and see him again before he passed.

“Please take my father back to his chambers to rest,” Edelgard said. “I will see you tomorrow before I leave, Father.”

Edelgard turned back to Hubert. The weight of the crown still dug into her temples, but the burden of the coronation had lifted, if only temporarily.

“What now?” she asked Hubert.

“Now I believe you could use some rest as well, milady,” Hubert said. “You still have not eaten. Would you like me to call for some food to be brought to your chambers?”

Edelgard sighed. “Yes, Hubert. You may as well.”

Hubert delivered her expeditiously to her old rooms. Her bedroom remained exactly as she had left it. Chambermaids came to help remove her crown and regalia. Edelgard rubbed the welts from her skull where the crown had dug against her skin. By the time that she had disrobed and changed, Hubert returned with a bottle of wine and a plate of cold food.

He poured her a glass, but Edelgard refused it. Her stomach soured at the thought.

“You ought to celebrate, milady,” Hubert said. “The opportunities for such revelry will be few in the future.”

“I cannot relax,” Edelgard said. “Now that we have come thus far, I can only see war in our imminent future.” 

“All the more reason to rest now,” Hubert said.

“I carry the burden of the crown,” Edelgard said. “And I carry it alone. I cannot afford to let my guard down. There is always something else to do.”

“While I am here, milady, you are never alone,” Hubert said.

Edelgard let out a dry scoff. “Is that so? You have seemed eager to avoid me for weeks now.”

“I simply do not wish to distract you, your majesty,” Hubert said.

“Well, you have failed,” Edelgard said. It was difficult to hide the bitterness in her voice.

“We have always known that this moment would arrive,” Hubert said. “News of my patricide will soon extend over all the nation. You cannot be associated like a man like me.”

“So you shall simply serve as my closest confidante, advisor, and tactician. I am certain that will attract no rumors at all.”

“If you believe my presence to be a detriment, I will remove myself—”

“You know well perfectly that is not what I meant!”

“I am distressing you on what should be a night of—”

“Don’t you dare say that you are leaving,” Edelgard said. “I order you to stay here and explain yourself.”

“I have already explained myself.” Hubert's words stung like poison. “You are an Emperor. You ought to take many lovers, as your father did before you. You deserve a man worthy of your title, one untainted by scandal as I am.”

“And you’re a marquis,” Edelgard said, “who would rather me marry the titleless son of a count.”

“I would prefer you not marry anyone.”

He had said it so quickly, Edelgard wondered if he had meant to say it at all. Judging by how quickly he ducked his face away, she determined that he hadn’t. For some reason, the idea made her smile.

“Not even you, Hubert?” Edelgard stepped closer to him.

A twinge of pink flushed Hubert’s sharp cheeks. She had finally caught him. “Milady, we cannot even entertain the idea—"

Edelgard suddenly accepted the glass of wine from Hubert’s hands. “Let us sit out on the balcony, Hubert.”

Her sudden change of mood startled Hubert. He followed out to the balcony, where he fluffed out the pillows on the old bench. Edelgard bid him to sit beside her, before leaning heavily against him. Her head tilted against his shoulder, and she positioned her back so that it pressed against his torso.

He should have resisted. The smell of her hair—almond oil and rose water— overwhelmed him. He lifted his hand to move one of the pillows, and she caught it in hers, wrapping it around her waist. 

“I recall the last time you had me in such a compromising position on this balcony, and I cannot help but feel that you are trying to seduce me again, your majesty.”

“I thought you wanted me to relax, Hubert,” Edelgard said. “Unless you would prefer to continue vexing me with an argument.”

The weight of all the previous weeks began to unload themselves against Hubert. He felt both exhausted and highly alert, like his nerves were on fire and wearing down to the wick. When he closed his eyes, he saw his father's blood running down the tea table. He heard the cries of Maxsim von Varley walled up in his tower. Yet Edelgard felt so solid, like an anchor that grounded him from the haze of violence that had consumed him. And it was so easy to just give into her—to absorb her warmth and let her sink into his body.

“Well, if this achieves our goal, I suppose I cannot complain.” His lips pressed against the welts of her brow. Her hum of contentment radiated through her body.

Edelgard meanwhile had closed her eyes and drank a moment of rest. They had come so far. She had accomplished the impossible. She was Emperor now. In a few short weeks, she would have begun her offensive against the Church. Perhaps Hubert was right. Perhaps she ought to seize a little joy while she still had the opportunity.

Besides, it was hard not to think such things with his lips trailing from her ear down to her neck.

A heavy fist pounded against the door. They broke apart. The knocking continued insistently.

Hubert extracted himself from the bench and moved towards the door. Edelgard tried to still her nerves. So soon after her coronation, such a visitor could not be bringing good tidings. Hubert answered the door, and Edelgard waited for him to announce her visitor.

_Arundel._

It seemed as if history repeated itself in more than one way tonight.

Arundel marched into the room. How did he already find out? His spies in the palace must have been more extensive than Edelgard originally thought.

“My dear, I would like to congratulate you on your ascension,” Arundel drawled. Although he smiled, his eyes gleamed with a deadly anger. “Had I known you were planning on your coronation tonight, I would have made sure to personally attend.”

“My father is very ill,” Edelgard said. “I had to act quickly.”

“Perhaps I should have expected this after the untimely death of Manfred von Vestra,” Arundel said, shooting a sour look towards Hubert. “But then again, I foolishly thought that you might entrust me with such matters.”

“The nobles do not wish for another regent, Uncle,” Edelgard said. “You must understand that your presence would have hindered our goals. I must act independently if I am going to—”

“Stop this,” Arundel said coldly. “I know exactly what it is you were doing. I know exactly what it is you want. Do you think that the impending war against the church will distract us? Do you think we’ll simply hand the Empire over to you when soon all of Fodlan will be at our disposal?”

Edelgard straightened her pose. “And do you think I’ll just let you overrun the Empire, as though it is your own playground? I am Emperor, Thales. From now on, if you want the nobility on your side, if you want the army or the treasury at your beck and call, you’ll have to contend with me.”

“We are not enemies, Edelgard,” Arundel said, exasperated. “I have given you the world, and like a petulant child, you demand more.”

“I demand my sovereign right as Emperor,” Edelgard said, “and nothing more.”

“Your timing is poor,” Arundel said. “You still need me, Edelgard. Do you know, exactly, what Rhea is capable of? Do you truly understand what we are up against?”

“Our army is—”

“Insufficient,” Arundel said, “against the Immaculate One.”

“What are you saying?” Hubert asked.

“Rhea and her ilk…they’re not human,” Arundel said. “Surely, you know your dogma. The great dragon that descends from the heavens to purge the unworthy from the earth. The defender of the Church and the scourge of her enemies. Who do you think they’re referring to?”

“I can handle Rhea,” Edelgard said.

“But what about that professor, Byleth?” Arundel asked. “Do you know what happened with Solon and Kronya? Solon invoked an ancient and unholy rite to banish her to the void of Zahras—the inert space between the worlds, where the Fell Star once cast the first god Thinis himself. It could not contain her for even a minute. Do you really think you can defeat her?”

If Arundel was trying to shake Edelgard’s confidence, it worked. What was coming next was no mere battle. A dragon and Byleth…perhaps Arundel was right. Perhaps she had acted hastily.

“What you need Edelgard—what _we_ need—is more firepower,” Arundel said. “Do you know what lies in the Holy Tomb? A fresh supply of crest stones. The Church sits on them and waits to dole them out for when they need to placate humanity again. But in our hands, we can use it against them, steal the power that they first stole from us.”

“Using the crests again will only further entrap us in the Church’s power,” Edelgard said. “Those crest stones are what is wrong with society—”

“We must fight fire with fire,” Arundel said. “Do you think a mortal army is sufficient against immortal gods?” He turned away. “When Byleth enters the Holy Tomb, you will retrieve the crest stones for us, Edelgard. That is, if you ever hope to make your ideals more than just empty words.”

The door closed behind him. Edelgard screamed with rage. Her hands clenched in her hair.

“I will never escape him,” she seethed. “He will control me forever.”

“No,” Hubert said. “He does not control you. You are Emperor.”

“What option do we have?” Edelgard asked. “You know he is right. We need those crest stones. We are powerless against Rhea and Byleth without them.”

“Perhaps a change of perspective is needed,” Hubert said. “We are not controlled by Arundel. We are making a conscious decision to cooperate with him, until the time arrives that he is no longer useful.”

“But doesn’t that just push us further into his grasp?”

“Not necessarily,” Hubert said. “If Arundel truly controlled you, he would not waste his time with petty threats and warnings. He knows he cannot take the Empire without your help. Did not the nobility once think they controlled you? And now they are eating out of your hand. Arundel will follow. We must simply bide our time.”

Edelgard considered his words carefully. “Thank you, Hubert. That is reassuring.”

Hubert kissed her forehead. “Please rest, your majesty. We have a long road back to Garreg Mach in the morning.”

Edelgard’s fingers curled in the fine wool of his coat. “Where are you going?”

“If Arundel is correct about the Holy Tomb, I will need to look into these matters immediately,” Hubert said. “They have been censoring more books in the library at Garreg Mach of late, and I fear that such information may not be as freely available once we return.”

Edelgard sighed. “No. I have already forbidden you from leaving. You may begin tomorrow morning.”

“Your majesty—”

“Don’t, Hubert,” Edelgard said. “Don’t do this again.”

Hubert stilled. “And what is it that you would have me do?”

She had to stand on her tiptoes to kiss him. At her touch, he swooped down and pressed against her, his hands sinking into her waist. “Stay here,” she murmured. “We only have more night before everything…” She left the statement fall away into another kiss.

Her fingers tried to work at the fastenings of his blasted coat, which no longer pleased her so much. Instead, she wanted it gone. Hubert stepped back, and she wanted to command him to return her. To her delight, he quickly unbuckled the garment. In a rather un-Hubert-like move, he let it fall to the ground like trash. His trousers and shirt followed in a heap.

It delighted Edelgard to see how careless and eager he seemed in this moment. All his careful defenses had collapsed. He worked Edelgard with the same haste. He lifted her and rolled her along the bed, sliding his hand under the laces of her gown and pulling it over her head. They were both naked, raw, and vulnerable. Edelgard’s hands slipped wantonly down his body, dipping down below his navel and against his manhood. She heard noises that he never dared to make in the thin walls at Garreg Mach: something between a growl and a gasp. In response, he pressed her down against the bed, extended her leg, and let his lips travel up the thigh until it was her groaning in pleasure.

Although they had the whole night ahead them, everything felt needy, desperate, uncontained, as though time might slip out of their fingers and they may never recover the moment again. As Edelgard guided Hubert into her, all of their struggles came to release, and they forgot the crimson path that still lay ahead of them, if only for a moment.

Wrapped in the arms of her lover, Edelgard didn’t dream that night.

* * *

The Black Eagles study group was becoming more of a social affair. Even Linhardt attended these days, although he mostly came for the tea and crumpets, and while Lysithea remained an official member of the Golden Deer, her frequent attendance had pleased Edelgard.

Not that any of this studying mattered anymore anyways. Edelgard found it difficult to even pretend. All she wanted to do was savor this moment, try to memorize what it was like to be _just another student_ without care or worry.

“So what were you doing in Enbarr anyways?” Dorothea asked with a wink as she sipped her tea. “Were you and Hubert taking a little holiday?”

Hubert grimaced. “I hardly see how this is relevant to our final certification exams.”

“Well, if it had been anything significant, I am certain that I would have heard from my father,” Ferdinand said. Edelgard cringed. Explaining to Ferdinand what happened to his father would be difficult.

“Wait, doesn’t everyone know?” Caspar said. “Man, my dad told me like right away.”

Every head snapped down to look at Caspar, Edelgard included. He reddened, mostly under the withering gaze of Hubert.

“Am I not supposed to know?” he asked with a nervous laugh.

Edelgard sighed. “Can you all keep a secret?” She was going to wait another day for this conversation, to share it over smuggled wine and a bonfire in the woods—to make the announcement and subsequent proposal a real occasion. But the library was empty, and the subject had arrived naturally.

Dorothea squealed and covered her mouth, nodding fervently. Ferdinand frowned slightly, but he gave an acquiescing gesture. Bernadetta bit her lip, as though this would be bad news instead of good. Linhardt barely reacted, although Lysithea beside him had begun to bite the end of her quill. Petra leaned forward with a nervous energy.

“Lady Edelgard, I don’t think—” Edelgard waved her hand, and Hubert fell silent.

“I am very serious. This must remain a secret,” Edelgard said. “Lysithea, I am trusting you as one of our own. You will not tell Claude or Professor Byleth this will you?”

Lysithea straightened. Edelgard hoped she had provoked the desire to be more mature. “I promise,” she said.

Edelgard licked her lips. “It was my coronation,” she said quietly.

“Your what?” Ferdinand exploded.

“I am now Emperor of Adrestia.”

Ferdinand slammed his hands on the table. “How was I not informed of this matter?”

“Ferdinand, please,” Edelgard said. “My father is very ill. He does not have much longer. As you know, the transitions between Emperors is always fraught. We decided it was most efficacious for the coronation to happen while he was still alive.”

“But nobody can be knowing about this yet?” Petra asked.

“No,” Edelgard said. “Not until after we graduate. But I must ask one thing of all of you. As Emperor, I will require a close cohort of trusted allies. My personal guard needs generals. I need advisors. I would like to offer every person at this table an opportunity.”

Silence fell between them. Their surprise gave way to awed shock.

“I should go,” Lysithea said quickly. “You probably want to—”

“That includes you, Lysithea,” Edelgard said. “I trust all of you. More than that, I need all of you.”

“Edie, are you sure?” Dorothea asked. “I mean, we’re your classmates. Aren’t there, like, seasoned generals or politicians you can ask?”

“I don’t want corrupt nobles or politicians,” Edelgard said. “I know I can rely on all of you. But in order for this to happen, I need you all to do something for me. Next week, I need you to report down to Talsburg. I want you all cleared immediately, so that you may join me when the school year ends. The transition to power is bumpy, and I need you all ready.”

The Talsburg trip had been carefully negotiated. Edelgard needed them out of the way during the ritual. It was too soon to reveal her involvement to Rhea, but she did not want to risk any of their lives during the event.

“Cleared for what?” Bernadetta asked nervously.

“Background check,” Hubert said. “A formality really, but we don’t wish for Lady Edelgard’s enemies to be able to discredit you based on a technicality.”

“Next week?” Lysithea said. “But that’s when the ritual at the Holy Tomb is taking place.”

“Yes,” Edelgard said. “I’m sorry to say that you will have to miss it if you wish to join me.”

“We have already sought approval for this activity,” Hubert said. “Manuela is going to suggest it as an alternate mission for the Black Eagles. She too has promised to honor the secrecy of this mission.”

“Rhea doesn’t really care who attends the ritual anyways,” Edelgard said. “It’s all about Byleth.”

They digested this information wordlessly. Ferdinand’s face had frozen in a mask of shock. He stared at the table as he struggled to process it. Bernadetta fidgeted in her seat, overtaken by fear. Linhardt traded long glances with Lysithea, who reached under the table for his hand. Dorothea appeared somewhat excited, her eyes crinkling with anticipation.

It was Caspar who broke the silence. “Well, uh, I want to say I’m surprised by this but…” He let it trail off. His father had told him. Edelgard was no longer surprised. “So, when do we leave?”

“Yes,” Petra said. “I am most honored to be part of the inclusion!”

“You don’t think my theater background will be a problem for you, will it Edie, I mean, your majesty?” Dorothea asked.

“Um,” Bernadetta squeaked, “I’m not sure that I’m right for this job.”

“Nonsense, Bernadetta.” Ferdinand seemed to have recovered slightly. “I am certain that Edelgard would not have invited you were you not worthy to join her. It is an insult to turn down the offer.” He grinned, although his eyes still wore the brunt of his shock.

Lysithea’s hand slipped out of Linhardt’s. She stood suddenly. “I’m sorry, Edelgard. I’m really honored. I just…I can’t.”

Edelgard tried to temper her disappointment. “Please reconsider, Lysithea. Just because you come from the Alliance—”

Lysithea gathered up her books. “I have to return to my parents after the year ends. I’m sorry.” She rushed away, dropping books and quills as she ran. Linhardt tried to go after her, but she shook her head and left him standing out in the open.

Linhardt sighed. “I suppose I have no choice in this. My father has already decided for me, hasn’t he?”

“It’s still your choice,” Edelgard said.

Linhardt rejoined his seat. “It’s almost more work fighting against it.” He buried his head in his arms.

“So it is decided,” Hubert said. He shut his book and smiled at Edelgard. They would be out of the way for the ritual. Edelgard could at least protect them that far. But when all was said and done—when the final assault took place—would they continue to fight for her?

* * *

There was something about Metodey that made Hubert’s stomach tingle. The man’s face was twisted into a permanent sneer, and he almost seemed to delight at the prospect of killing students.

“Your primary objective is not to kill the students,” Hubert said. “Violence is only to be used against those who resist.”

Metodey laughed. “Like you’re not dying to get your hands on some of those brats. I’ve heard of your reputation, Lord Vestra.”

Hubert stiffened. He still was not used to his honorific. Furthermore, the idea that anyone could compare him to Metodey made him sick.

“If you cannot adhere to basic commands, I am sure the Emperor can find a suitable replacement,” Hubert said. Metodey flashed with anger, but he did not fight back. Instead, he forced a bow.

Edelgard was speaking with Ladislava. She already wore the bulk of her Flame Emperor garb, all except for her helmet. Hubert moved towards her.

“My lady, we will need to move out soon,” Hubert said. “General Ladislava, are the reinforcements ready?”

Ladislava nodded. “I would still prefer to attend her majesty on this issue.”

“We cannot risk her majesty being recognized just yet,” Hubert said. “The longer we can hide her identity hidden, the stronger position we will maintain during the first invasion.”

Ladislava nodded. “Very well. Randolph and I will await the signal.”

“Your majesty, are you ready?” Hubert asked her. Edelgard nodded. He leaned forward to attach her visor.

Out in the courtyard, Arundel waited. A pack of dark mages flocked behind him, their long curling masks inciting distasteful memories.

“A gift to ensure your success,” Arundel said, gesturing behind him. “We cannot afford an outright attack. You will need to teleport beyond the walls. I thought you may wish for some assistance.”

“Six mages is a bit much, wouldn’t you say?” Hubert asked. “We only require one or two to transport the whole of the invading force.”

“They are not just for the soldiers,” Arundel said with a smile. “When you are ready, they will summon your real gift.” He pressed an affectionate hand on Edelgard’s shoulder. “I am pleased that you saw the light on this, Edelgard. I think you will find your task much simpler this way.”

“This does not mean that we are allies,” Edelgard said. “Only that we are not enemies.”

Arundel laughed. “The terms do not matter. What matters is the crest stones. Bring those to me, Edelgard, and I will ensure your victory. The world will be at your feet, remade in your image, and then you can tell me who your real friends are.”

* * *

A pale green cast shaded the Holy Tomb. Cold air rushed to meet Edelgard as she descended into the cellar. Even though she lingered deep within the catacombs below the monastery, she felt light-headed, as though she stood on the top of a large mountain.

 _The magic is strong here,_ she realized. A magical platform had lowered them into this isolated chamber, and it hadn’t even worked before Edelgard activated her crest.

At the fore of the chamber, Byleth ascended the steps towards the Holy Throne. At the bottom, Rhea and Seteth looked on, surrounded by a smattering of students. Edelgard recognized Claude and Dimitri gawking up at her.

Rhea’s voice boomed over the chamber. “It was supposed to be but a step away. What could possibly be missing?” The ritual had failed somehow. Were Edelgard not here for a specific purpose, her interest might have been piqued by the failure.

Claude spun around suddenly. “Sorry to disturb you when you're distressed, Archbishop, but it seems some uninvited guests have arrived.”

Metodey began giggling. “Don't move, any of you. If you move, your lives will be forfeit. Thank you ever so much for guiding us this far. The Imperial army will now take possession of everything in the Holy Tomb.”

Gasps chorused from the students and monks. Edelgard heard exclamations of surprise as the realization dawned over her classmates. She wondered if they could see straight through her mask and recognize her.

Soldiers rushed past Edelgard into the chamber. Chaos erupted. For a moment, it was if the students forgot all of their training. They backed against the edge of the chamber in a large wave. Byleth cautiously rose from her seat. Unlike the others, not a blip of surprise etched her face. Instead, determination fueled her expression. The Sword of the Creator woke with a red hue.

Unlike the others, Dimitri did not shy away. Instead, he began to laugh. His back arched as his lungs filled with laughter. Claude reached out for him, but he tore away. The laughter cut off abruptly.

“Heretics!” he snarled. Darkness shadowed his eyes. “What could be gained from desecrating these tombs and disgracing the dead?!”

“Silence!” Edelgard called. “Take away every last one of those Crest Stones.”

The dark mages that Arundel provided formed a line, and in unison, they clapped their hands. Two whorls of shadow bubbled up from the ground. From the portals stepped out two massive creatures—eyeless demons with maws of serrated teeth. Each bore a glowing crest stone embedded in their skulls.

Demonic beasts. Just like the kind that Those Who Slithered in the Dark had created from the bodies of vulnerable students. Edelgard wondered if these had originated as students or as some other unfortunate fool.

 _Steel yourself_ , Edelgard said. _A temporary measure_ , she assured herself. There was no time to resist Arundel’s measures—they had to fight.

Edelgard watched from above as the battle unfolded. As her soldiers plundered the tombs, the students just as quickly cut them down. They plucked the crest stones from their bodies.

Claude’s prowess with a bow had sharpened since the battle at Gronder. In a few quick strikes, he dismantled the mages. Dimtiri fought with a hunger that Edelgard had only seen before in Jeritza. His lance twirled and spun, impaling the soldiers.

What perhaps shocked Edelgard most of all was how not a single student fell. Each student at Garreg Mach fought with a fervor and strength that she had never seen before. No one seemed to fight an enemy that overwhelmed, and even the massive creatures that Arundel provided fell easily.

 _Byleth_. Edelgard didn’t know what or how, but a deep intuition told her that someone Byleth was the reason why they won so handily.

Well, Byleth hadn’t fought her yet. This was nothing like the Battle at Gronder field. This was for real.

Metodey met his end at the end of Dimitri’s spear. Dimitri panted like a wild dog before snapping his head up to stare through her visor.

“Do you know just how many people died in Duscur?” he asked.

 _Duscur?_ What did this have to do with Duscur?

An arrow whizzed by her head. She looked over her shoulder. Claude waited on the other side.

“So, you're the fabled Flame Emperor?” Claude scoffed. “Go ahead and enlighten me. What are you planning to do with the Crest Stones?” When she didn’t immediately answer, he added, “What did you use Flayn's blood for? Who's Kronya? Who's Solon?”

Edelgard lifted her axe, ready to fight. “Silence. Both of you. We end this now.”

Claude notched another arrow, so fast that Edelgard saw only a blur. She stepped out of its way and swung her axe, but Claude lifted dodged the attack. He was too close to shoot at her, however. Edelgard had him in her purview.

A blunt force knocked against her helmet. Dimitri had swung and hit her. The impact dizzied her. _How strong was he?_ She stepped back, shaking her head, as she steadied herself. She expected a second hit, but there was none. Everything had gone silent.

Cool air touched her face. The shattered pieces of her visor rested at her feet. Edelgard grit her teeth. She had been revealed. 

Dimitri began laughing again. “Is this some kind of twisted joke?!”

“The Flame Emperor is actually Edelgard?” Claude gasped.

Edelgard shouted a command, and another soldier rushed towards Dimitri. Dimitri grabbed the man’s face. The soldier screamed as Dimitri pressed down. Dimitri squeezed, crushing the man’s skull.

“I will take that head from your shoulders, and hang it from the gates of Enbarr!” Dimitri roared.

Edelgard’s garrison circled around her, forming a protective barrier. Dimitri raced towards Edelgard with his lance brandished. Byleth uselessly tried to grab him, but he ducked her grasp. Edelgard felt the air displace as the point of his lance raced by her ear.

“But before I break your neck, there is one thing I must ask you.”

Edelgard braced her axe. “Stay out of my way.”

Dimitri chuckled. “I don't recall giving you permission to speak. Answer my question. That is all you have left to do. Why did you cause such a tragedy?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Dimitri shook his head. “I heard you and your cronies that night in town. You caused the Tragedy of Duscur. You killed your own mother, and yet you haven't even had the decency to stop and consider the reasons behind your actions. Have you?!”

Edelgard felt a bite of frustration. “I already told you, I had nothing to do with that.” It was fruitless to fight any more. All Edelgard needed was to wait for the last of her soldiers to make it to her with the crest stones. Then they could disappear.

“It was foolish to think I could reason with a lowly beast,” Dimitri said.

Rhea stepped forward now, her white robes trailing in the blood of Edelgard’s fallen soldiers. “You have disappointed me, Edelgard. To think that a descendant of House Hresvelg would dare betray the holy church...Professor, kill Edelgard at once.” Byleth did not move. Not even a muscle tensed. She too was waiting. But for what?

Finally, Edelgard heard the signal.

“Your Majesty, now!”

Dimitri lifted his lance for the final plunge. “You are a monster...” But Claude was faster. An arrow ripped through the air, nearly striking Edelgard, until it was swallowed up in shadow.

A comforting presence warmed Edelgard’s back. A hand on her shoulder told her all she needed to know.

“Come, Hubert,” she said. As the shadows consumed them, Edelgard knew that the true battle was yet to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive! And as such, I overcompensated with this monster of a chapter. I promise to resume to a more normal publication schedule now that things are settling down for me. Really loved reading everyone's reactions to the last chapter! Thank you so much for sticking with me!


	20. War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The countdown to the battle for Garreg Mach begins. Edelgard may lose some allies, but she may also gain some new ones...

Two weeks. Fourteen days. A mere fortnight. That was all the time Edelgard had to prepare for the invasion into Garreg Mach. She was ready for this, she kept telling herself. This was the culmination of everything she worked for.

Yet her fears formed a visceral weight that she hadn’t been able to shake off. Anxiety was to be expected. She was starting a war after all.

Her initial strike on the Holy Tomb had been a surprise for the Church. Her initial force of five thousand men cut off reinforcements from the south and east. The Church was scrambling to call in more from forces from the north, but the Empire was more prepared. The first wave of soldiers had begun a siege on the monastery to cut off their supply line. Another ten thousand would join Edelgard’s force within the fortnight. And then they would begin their real assault.

“Milady?” Hubert’s shadow filled the doorway. “The scribes have finished copying your manifesto.”

“Good,” Edelgard said. She was fidgeting over a tactical map of Garreg Mach, pushing figurines this way and that. “I want it distributed to every ruling house in all three nations.”

“I have already instructed the scribes.” He slipped behind her and settled his hands on her shoulders. Fingers worked into her muscles. “There is another pressing matter. Our…classmates have returned from their mission.”

Ah, yes, the fake mission to Talsburg that Edelgard had construed. Now they lingered at the gates of the provisional camp, and Edelgard would need to explain to them that everything they knew about her had been a farce. Their innocent schooldays were no longer so carefree. Edelgard was not _just another student._

“Very well,” Edelgard said. “I shall go meet them.”

The provisional camp now thronged with bodies. Around the mountain, smaller encampments spotted the mountain. And her fellow Black Eagles stood in the midst of it all, hardly looking like the officers they were trained to be. They clumped in a herd, wide-eyed and shivering. Mere children, Edelgard realized, her stomach gnarling into a hundred knots.

“Hello,” she said weakly. They stared at her. Bernadetta hid behind Dorothea. Petra shrunk into herself, eyeing the Bergliez shoulders with a frightened expression. Ferdinand was slackjawed and flabbergasted. Beside him, Caspar kept flexing his muscles, and Linhardt stared at his boots. “I suppose you have heard that the Empire has declared war on the church, and by extension, the Kingdom and the Alliance.”

Silence. Not even Ferdinand spoke.

“I understand that these actions may come as a shock to you, but I hope that you will listen to my justification before unduly judging,” Edelgard said. “The leaders of the church have misused its creed to fulfill their true desire - to rule the world. They have fooled the people of Fódlan.” The words were well-recited, drawn from the script of her manifesto, which would soon reach every noble in Fodlan.

“Long ago,” she continued, “they divided the Empire to create a Kingdom, and then, divided that Kingdom to create an Alliance. They did all of this to make the masses bicker amongst themselves. They caused instability in order to reinforce their own authority. They gathered gold and lived in extravagance. How? By preying on the devotion of those who wished for the goddess's salvation.”

“But why, Edie?” Dorothea asked. “Why war?”

Linhardt sighed. “The right question is, whose side are we on?” Edelgard turned towards him, surprised that he had spoken. “There are dark forces at work. Look at everything that has happened in the past year. Flayn’s disappearance. Solon and Kronya. The students turning into beasts…Edelgard, you know who is behind that, don’t you?”

“I do,” Edelgard said. “We call them Those Who Slither in the Dark. They call themselves the Agarthans. They have wormed their way into every court in Fodlan. They control the regent of Faerghus. They have overtaken House Ordelia in the Alliance. And they have influence in the Empire. With or without us, they would be tearing down the Church. With or without us, they would be continuing their vile experimentation.

“The Church is not innocent in all of this. Look at how they turned their back on you, Dorothea, when Monica attacked because it was politically inconvenient. Look at the favor they pour upon Byleth for no reason other than her crest. Look at how readily they executed sympathizers of the Western Church without due process of law!”

Edelgard’s whole body shook with rage.

“I dream of a world without crests. Where people rise because of their blood but because of their merit. Where borders are open and free, and technology flourishing. Those Who Slither in the Dark may not be our friends, but if we are going to root out this cancer, we must begin at its source,” Edelgard said. “If you wish to leave, I won’t stop you. But my offer still stands to join me, as my generals, as my personal strike force.”

“Oh, Edie,” Dorothea said. Edelgard braced herself for disappointment. “Of course, I’m going to join you. If anyone can do it, it’s you.” Dorothea approached cautiously, then pulled Edelgard into a quick hug.

“I have agreement!” Petra said. “I often cannot be understanding of Fodlan society. Your church has made great enemies with other countries. If Brigid and Fodlan are to be friends, then we must be fighting to get rid of the Church.”

“Yeah, when you put it that way, they’re really just big bullies,” Caspar said.

“I wish you would have trusted us with this before,” Ferdinand said irritably. “I have devised many brilliant strategies for the improvement of the Empire that speak to the poison of these very institutions. I—”

“Ferdinand,” Hubert said in a low warning tone.

“Oh, do not speak that way to me, Hubert,” Ferdinand said. “As the future Prime Minister of the Empire, I would do nothing to interfere with the will of the Emperor. I am merely suggesting that such secrets were not warranted!”

Linhardt opened his mouth but quickly shut it. Before Ferdinand could continue with his tirade, she said, “Linhardt, were you going to say something?”

Linhardt shrugged and shook his head. “I hate the idea of it. War and bloodshed. But doing nothing causes more problems, so I guess we’re stuck in this mess. But I don’t like it.”

“It is the quickest option,” Edelgard said. “People may die, but not as many as would continue to perish under the reign of the Church.”

“But we’ll be fighting our friends,” Bernadetta said. Tears wavered at the ledge of her eyelids. Her whole body had seized up in fear. Her hands had clasped so tightly together that they turned white. Edelgard wondered if she would breakdown right then and there.

“Only if they resist,” Edelgard said. “I will give them the opportunity to join us.”

“Edie, we know that they won’t,” Dorothea said.

“Then that is their choice,” Edelgard said. “And this is ours.”

Bernadetta began to cry.

* * *

One week. Seven days. Her reinforcements had camped in the ruins of Remire, according to Fleche von Bergliez, who ran messages in between the encampments. In between the human faces flocked the frightening masks of dark mages. Arundel promised bigger creatures this time.

There was an endless list of things to do. Weapons to acquire; armor to fit; soldiers to feed; medicine to pick, dry, blend; battlements to fortify; strategies to plan; trenches to dig; roads to construct…Edelgard rubbed her temples.

Candlelight silhouetted her shadow over the tactical map. Dozens of wooden figurines—each representing a battalion—crowded the map. Her eyes blurred from squinting too much.

“Your majesty, you must try to sleep,” Hubert said.

“This is our only chance,” Edelgard said. “If our army falls here, the war will be over before it even begins.”

“We won’t fall.”

“If the Church gets forces from the Kingdom—”

“Cornelia will prevent that,” Hubert said. “You know that.”

“And the Alliance?”

“We block all roads from the west.”

Edelgard sighed. She pressed both palms forward on the table, bending over the table, as though the proximity would improve her foresight. She wondered how Byleth did it, how she perfectly carved through the battlefield without a single fatality, as if she could predict every move of her enemies. Edelgard strained to replicate her foresight.

Hubert rubbed his eyes. He appeared a particularly ashen shade of pale tonight. Deep bags sunk below his eyes, and candlelight exaggerated the hollow of his cheeks. Edelgard knew that he wouldn’t admit weakness and go to bed before her, but he teetered on the brink of exhaustion.

“Go to bed, Hubert,” Edelgard said.

“No, I cannot while you are still awake,” Hubert said. “What is your plan now?”

“I wish to have Randolph bring up the center here, and then have Ladislava bring up the flank. I will lead the charge—”

“You will what?” It was as if Hubert suddenly awoke. He crossed to the side of the table. “Edelgard, you are not expecting to fight in this battle.”

“Of course I must fight, Hubert,” Edelgard said.

“You heard what Arundel said about Rhea!” Hubert said. “How dangerous she is.”

“And that is precisely why I must fight,” Edelgard said. “What kind of Emperor would I be if I let my soldiers march to certain death while I watch from afar.”

“Certain death? So you admit it then. This is a fool’s invasion, isn’t it, if death is so certain.”

“Let me guess, you think me incapable of handling this. Like a delicate doll, you would wish me to stay on the sidelines.”

“You are irreplaceable,” Hubert said. “Without you, there is no Empire. Arundel wins. The Church wins.”

“I do not plan on dying,” Edelgard said. “My crests will protect me. Rhea and Byleth cannot be taken down by mortal means. It would be foolish not to utilize my talents.”

“I cannot watch as you put yourself in danger,” Hubert said.

“You overstep, Hubert,” she snarled.

Hubert halted. His expression twitched, full of conflict.

“I cannot understand you,” Hubert said. The words scored Edelgard deeply. “You would make me swear not to give my life in your honor, yet you throw yours away so callously.”

Edelgard flinched. “This is not up for discussion.”

“No, it never is, is it?” Hubert scoffed. A darkness tinged his gaze, something that Edelgard had only ever seen directed at other people.

“Of all times to suddenly become so vocal, why now? You vowed your fealty to me. Why stand against me now.”

“I am disagreeing with you, Edelgard,” he said. “I am not standing against you. And you very well know why.”

“You have no faith in me,” Edelgard said. “As Minister of the Imperial Household—”

“I do not speak as the Minister of the Imperial Household, and you know it, Edelgard,” Hubert said. “I—I…” His voice faltered. “Nevermind. Forgive me, your majesty. I overstepped.”

“Say it. Whatever it is, say it. I want to hear it.”

“I shall not challenge you again. Now if you’ll—”

Edelgard gripped his arm. “No, Hubert. I command you to speak.”

Hubert sighed. His body went slack. He collapsed back into his chair, bringing Edelgard down with him. “Your majesty…Edelgard, if you will not listen to me as Minister, then please listen to me as the man who is devoted to you.”

His callused fingers brushed over her knuckles. “It is not that I lack confidence. It is that—” His voice teetered at the edge of collapse. Finally, he broke, “the idea of harm coming to you tears me apart. I would do anything— _anything,”_ he growled, his voice a feral snarl, “to ensure your safety. The mere idea of it gives me pain greater than any physical torture.”

Never had she expected him to reveal himself, so raw and unconcealed. Hubert, who had always deferred to his logic, now came undone before her.

“Hubert,” she said, reaching for him. “I understand. I do.” Hubert sighed, a rare release of emotion. “But…but I must fight.”

“As you wish,” Hubert said, but his voice strained with frustration. “But…please, don’t be rash. This whole war is nothing without you. _I_ am nothing without you.”

Edelgard bit her lip. Splayed on the table before her were the figurines, all arranged neatly on the battlefield. War was messy. War was disorganized and chaotic. There were no guarantees, especially not now.

Edelgard reached forward for the figure of the queen and moved it to the backlines.

* * *

Two days. Forty-eight hours. They would begin their march towards Garreg Mach soon. Messengers had flocked ahead, urging the townspeople to evacuate. Edelgard hoped that they had the wisdom to listen.

Edelgard had chosen to spare her classmates in this battle. Part of her felt guilty for bringing them into this. Part of her worried that if they faced their former friends that they would turn tail and flee. Perhaps their resolve would wither. Instead, she bid farewell to them, sending them to Enbarr to await her next command.

“Where is Bernadetta?” Hubert asked, as they bid farewell.

Dorothea and Petra exchanged an uneasy glance.

“When we woke up…she was gone,” Dorothea said.

Edelgard released a slow breath. She should’ve expected this. Bernadetta had always been the unknown variable. Yet Bernadetta’s departure affected Edeglard deeply, like a knife piercing just below her heart.

“She made her choice,” Hubert said.

“Poor Bern just wasn’t cut out for this,” Dorothea said. Edelgard tried to stem her disappointment. Dorothea was right; Bernadetta lacked the stomach for battle.

“Perhaps she returned home,” Edelgard said. “She never wanted to be an officer.”

A soldier joined them and saluted. “Your majesty, Lord Arundel has appeared.”

Edelgard sighed. “Excuse me. I have to greet him.”

Arundel waited in the undercroft. Before him, he had set out a massive wooden case with brass fixtures. The case gleamed in the candlelight.

“I have a gift for you,” Arundel said. His fingers wandered over the smooth wood of the case. “One worthy for the Flame Emperor.”

“I will no longer be using that name,” Edelgard said. “I rise as Edelgard von Hresvelg.”

“As you wish,” Arundel said. He gestured. Edelgard snapped opened the brass latches and pushed up the top of the case. Nestled in a bed of velvet lay an axe, its ridges smooth like carved ivory. Serrated teeth jutted from a jaw-like hinge. In its base, a crest stone gleamed incandescent red.

Edelgard sucked in a breath. “Aymr.” She had seen it a handful of times before. He had allowed her to wield it once, just for a few minutes, to test its power in her hands. She remembered the way her blood had vibrated, tuning into the hum of the axe. Moving the axe had felt like dancing, the way it guided her arm through the air, some hidden rhythm manipulating her limbs. When Arundel had pried it away from her, she awoke, as though emerging from a broken dream.

The sight of it made Edelgard thirst for the power it held once more. Is that what crests did? Make one hunger and lust for power? The sensation almost disgusted her, but it was a necessary evil.

“With this, I shall cut Rhea down,” Edelgard said. Arundel’s teeth gleamed, white as the axe and almost as monstrous.

* * *

Edelgard could taste the fire in the air. Ashes scattered on the tongue of the wind. The heat burnished her armor, made her garments soak underneath. _You will remake the world in fire,_ they had told her; the flame-born crest in her blood singed her bones beneath her flesh. And yet the fire threatened to consume as much as it would create.

Her first forces had already laid siege to the monastery for a week. Now, they would sweep in and take what little remained. The town was an empty shell, gone up in flames like dry tinder.

Standing atop the gates of the town, Edelgard could survey her domain. Randolph charged straight ahead, Bergliez teal and red quickly becoming only red. Ladislava’s cavalry led the eastern flank. The demonic beasts, chained and masked, reared their heads above the roofs. Wings of equally monstrous birds descended upon the town.

The church forces had already engaged the Empire’s first wave, although they held their full force in reserve. They were waiting.

Edelgard clenched her jaw. From here, she could also see the Church’s piecemeal army, assembled on the steps of Garreg Mach. Rhea stood at the center, hands clasped as though she was about to pray, face contorted in pure rage as though she was going to wring Edelgard’s neck. Seteth and Flayn patrolled the skies above her.

Byleth came up beside her. They were speaking. Byleth’s head out over the burning town, and suddenly, she whipped out the Sword of the Creator.

Was it Edelgard that she saw or merely the swell of twenty thousand soldiers breaking over the crest of the mountain? 

Edelgard’s grip cinched on the handle of Aymr. Her crest sang in her blood. The force rooted through her bones and moved through the axe, as though it were an extension of her body.

 _Now_! Edelgard thought, and as if the whole army sensed it, the battle began in earnest.

War was distasteful to Edelgard. The cacophony of armor and footfalls mixed in with the hiss and groan of dying men chilled her to the bone. Yet awful as war was, it was made worse by the personal element of it. Interspersed with the Knights of Seiros, Edelgard recognized her classmates.

 _Naturally, Rhea would send children to fight her battles,_ Edelgard thought. _One more lesson to teach them base fealty to their false religion._ Byleth she had expected, but not Sylvain on his brown horse or Hilda swinging her axe or….or…

Edelgard’s eyes narrowed. _Bernadetta._

“So it appears that Bernadetta wasn’t quite as cowardly as we thought,” Hubert mused beside Edelgard. She had not yet deployed him, and he waited beside her, watching the battle unfold. “I wonder if we underestimated young Varley.”

“How dare she!” Edelgard seethed. Aymr seemed to grow hotter in her hand.

“To turn against her nation and her liege,” Hubert said. “She will have to be dealt with. If it is too difficult to see—”

“No, all who stand against me must fall,” Edelgard said. “I will not falter.”

“Milady, if you think it prudent, I think I should leave now to secure the western stronghold,” Hubert said.

Edelgard’s stomach clenched. “Yes, that is a good idea.” Hubert bowed and turned away. There was no room for intimacy on the battlefield. “Hubert,” she said. He turned expectantly, “Don’t die.”

“I would never,” Hubert said, with a small smile.

So much of battle was a waiting game. Edelgard maintained her position, watching with gritted teeth as Byleth almost singlehandedly pushed back the tide of soldiers. Edelgard watched her in awe, as she dodged every blow and struck every landing. Even with the crest of flames in her blood, it was astounding to witness her stamina.

 _Byleth has to die._ Aymr called to her blood. Her muscles strained to fight. The din of the battle softened to white noise. Darkness shadowed the edges of her vision. Edelgard saw nothing but Byleth.

Byleth marched down the boulevard. Her eyes met Edelgard’s. Aymr moved for her. Forward, she felt herself pushing forward. The power enflamed her nerves. Aymr arced upwards and hurtled down.

The whip of the Sword of the Creator entangled around the brunt of the axe. Edelgard wrested the axe to the side. Byleth’s feet dug into the earth as Edelgard pulled her forward. Twisting her wrist, the sword retracted. Edelgard spun and swung, striking out at Byleth again.

Byleth blocked with the flat edge of the sword. Edelgard screamed, crushing the whole of her weight against Byleth. In a single movement, Byleth stepped back and to the side, forcing Edelgard to stumble. The sword struck against the back of Edelgard’s armor, with a loud, echoing thunk.

Edelgard recovered quickly. She summoned a spell of miasma. Byleth wheezed and sputtered, as the noxious fumes filled her lungs. Edelgard and Aymr moved as one, curving through the air, carried by the wind.

Byleth ducked and tackled Edelgard to the ground. The air punched out of Edelgard’s lungs, and Aymr fell from her grasp. Byleth planted her sword in the dirt beside Edelgard’s head, straddling her chest. One hand gripped Edelgard’s collarbone.

“Edelgard, El, listen to me,” Byleth said. “Listen!”

Edelgard gripped Byleth’s wrist with one hand. Her foot wrapped around Byleth’s ankle, bracing her. Lifting her hips, she toppled Byleth to the ground. Or—at least—she thought she did. A familiar dizzy sensation permeated Edelgard’s senses.

“Listen!” Byleth hissed. “I have to go now, all right? I have to go to sleep now, and you have to wait for me. There are things you need to do.”

The words stunned Edelgard. For a moment, she stopped resisting.

“Are you going to kill me?”

“No, I need you alive,” Byleth said. “I know who the true villains are. You’re not one of them.”

Edelgard began to struggle again. She tried again; hand on wrist, foot around ankle, hips lifted, and—

This time the dizziness came so strong, it made her nauseous.

“What are you?” Edelgard screamed.

“I am the beginning,” Byleth said. “And the end.”

“What does that mean?”

A deafening roar burst over the battle. The sun disappeared, and darkness blanketed the town. Byleth glanced up, and Edelgard followed her gaze. Her heart dropped.

Towering above the soldiers, a white dragon had appeared, glinting with rows of serrated teeth and spines made of sharp silver spikes. The Immaculate One had appeared.

Edelgard tried a final time to push Byleth off of her. This time, Byleth tumbled to the side. Her back hit the dirt with a crunch. Edelgard scrambled for Aymr.

“El! Listen, I’m going now,” Byleth called. Edelgard halted. “Remember what I said before? When avoiding one evil, people often put themselves in the path of another. Don’t lose your path. Don’t become that which you despise.”

Edelgard turned. A thousand words passed to her lips but none left. She watched as Byleth raced between shells of empty buildings and into the open field where the Immaculate One stood. Bruised and with the metallic taste of blood on her lips, Edelgard followed.

But she was not as fast as Byleth, and her armor cut into her leg, forcing her to limp ineffectually towards the action. By the time she made it to the field, Byleth stood at a distance, gaping up at the Immaculate One.

“Everyone here, young and old, is in your hands,” the Immaculate One growled to Byleth. “Leave and take them to safety.”

Byleth nodded, but did not move.

The earth shifted beneath their feet. The mountain broke apart and widened into a void of blackness. Edelgard swiveled to look. There, on the opposite side of the field, she spied Arundel—but not Arundel, not this time. He had reverted back to his original shape of Thales: alabaster skin and shock white hair appearing like a white blur on the field.

A garbled chorus of snarls drew Edelgard’s attention to four demonic beasts galloping down the field towards the dragon. The Immaculate One swiped a bat and threw one into the void. Byleth still did not move.

The next three beasts pummeled into the side of the Immaculate One, knocking the dragon backwards. Thales gathered up a ball of dark energy in his hands. Byleth met his gaze and rooted herself into place.

She glanced behind herself one more time at Edelgard, just as Thales magic struck her.

_There are things you need to do._

Byleth fell into the void.

* * *

They had won. By the time the Immaculate One appeared, the Church soldiers had already begun their retreat, but Byleth’s death—no, disappearance—forced the last of them to give up their arms. Even the Immaculate One had been subdued, dragged away by a horde of Thales’ dark mages.

Edelgard’s mind had raced ever since. She thought that with victory would come peace. Instead, she felt overtaken by madness. Try as she might to find Hubert, no one could tell her what had happened to him.

Edelgard passed through crumpled stone and blood-drenched streets. The dying called out to her in gasps and groans. Still, she could not find Hubert.

“Where is he?”

Edelgard had searched every tent in the camp. It was wrong to seek him out, not like this. She ought to be laying flowers at the bodies of the dead or laying the healing hands of the Emperor on the wounded. Instead, she tore through the camp, searching for _him_.

“Your majesty, he is resting within—”

Edelgard pushed past the cleric into the tent. The healer’s words should have placated her. Resting meant alive. Resting meant recuperating. Instead, she did not feel relief until Hubert’s eyes met hers.

He stretched on an erratz bedroll—nothing more than a pile of bloodied laundry—, shirtless, with bandages wound across his torso and right shoulder. Bruises peeked from beneath the fringe of the bandages, and

“What happened out there?” she asked. She sounded raw and haggard, feeling something that was not quite anger but still full of rage.

“Please, your majesty, you need not worry about me,” Hubert said. “I retreated before real harm could be done.”

“I thought I told you to be careful! I can’t risk losing you!”

“I believe what you said was not to die,” Hubert said, “a command I believe I fulfilled admirably.”

The response was so absurd that without realizing it, Edelgard began to laugh. She clutched Hubert’s face in her hands and pressed her forehead against his, chuckling even as she wanted to cry. With the one arm not entangled in bandages, Hubert brushed the hair out of her eyes.

“Allow me to congratulate you, milady, on your victory in battle,” Hubert said. “May it be the first of many.”

A cough interrupted them from the flaps of the tent. A soldier stood there, awkwardly glancing away from the embracing couple.

“Ma’am, we found one of the church mages trying to break our ranks,” said the soldier. “She was demanding to speak to you.”

“A pathetic attempt at a parley perhaps,” Hubert said. “Apprehend her at once.”

“I would, sir, but Lord Linhardt stopped us,” he said. “He said that you would want to speak to her.”

 _Could it be? Lysithea?_ Edelgard’s eyes widened. “Bring her in!” she said hastily.

Edelgard’s inclination was correct. Lysithea entered with two armed soldiers at either side. They had bound her arms, something which seemed to only cause annoyance with Lysithea. Linhardt was scuttling behind them, protesting loudly at their treatment of her.

“Release her,” Edelgard said. Lysithea rubbed her wrists once they were free.

“What do you want, Ordelia?” Hubert asked. “If you come here as a spy or messenger---”

“I read your manifesto,” Lysithea said. “And I need to know, the people who did this to us…the people who experimented on those villagers and the students, are you allying yourself with them?”

Edelgard bristled. She had expected Lysithea to either declare her fealty or her vengeance, not assault her with useless accusations. Didn’t Lysithea realize where she was, standing in a camp of imperial soldiers?

“I intend to bring them down,” Edelgard said. “But you know as well as I do that it is impossible to fight them in our current state.”

“No. You need Professor Byleth for that.”

“Byleth is gone,” Edelgard said. “Dead, most likely. She made her choice.”

“If Byleth sided with you, would you have accepted her help?” Lysithea said. “Or would you have cast her away like the Church?”

“I do not dislike Byleth,” Edelgard said. “But I will cut down anyone who stands in my way.”

“What is the purpose of these meaningless interrogations?” Hubert asked.

Lysithea twisted her hands. “I trusted the Professor. I believed that she would not lead us astray. She knew things, Edelgard. It was almost as if she expected to die in the battle, as if she saw what would happen.” She inhaled a shaky breath. “And she said something about you. Something strange. She said she would understand if I went with you…that it was better for me in the long run to be here. And that you needed me anyways.”

“So you are a spy,” Hubert said. “Unwise of you to reveal yourself.”

“No!” Lysithea cried. “I almost didn’t come until she…until it came true. What she said would happen came true.”

Edelgard bit her lip. She couldn’t keep up with this. Was Lysithea really saying that Byleth was prescient? Then again, Byleth had told her the same. _I have to go to sleep now._

“So why are you here then?”

Lysithea appeared uncomfortable. She glanced back at Linhardt for support. “She said that I would help remind you why you are fighting. She said that I wouldn’t let you forget.”

_Remember who the true villains are. You’re not one of them._

“I don’t care what Byleth said,” Edelgard said. “What I need to know from you, are you loyal to me? To the Adrestian Empire?”

Lysithea shrugged. “You have to promise me that you won’t do anything to Ordelia territory.”

“Of course not,” Edelgard said, still rooted in disbelief.

“And that my parents will be safe.”

“We would never harm an ally of the Empire,” Hubert said.

“And the ones who experimented on us?” Lysithea raised an eyebrow.

Edelgard began to understand. She smiled.

“They will pay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Onto the time skip, at long last! I've got a few surprises in store for the rest of the story. Hope you'll stick with me through them!


	21. Reunions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five years have passed since the attack on Garreg Mach. Arundel has grown more powerful, and the Kingdom and the Alliance talk of coalition. Edelgard and Hubert must carefully strategize to avoid the enemies on both sides.

“Dimitri is dead.”

Edelgard exhaled slowly, trying to keep a grip on her emotions, even as the news struck her like an arrow between the ribs. Caspar had brought her the news, as blunt as ever, but also sorrowful—his voice bearing the conflict that they all felt in her souls. Dimitri had been their classmate—their friend—but he was also their enemy.

Five years this war had raged. Edelgard was beginning to lose hope that it could ever be just a brief conflict. Five years to struggle to erase a thousand years of control. Ever since the battle at Garreg Mach, Dimitri had fled back to the Kingdom, only to be overthrown by Cornelia. The eastern Lords of Faerghus still fought against the Empire, their guerilla warfare disturbingly effective against the Agarthan forces.

“Are we certain?” Edelgard asked.

“We received word from Count Rowe this morning,” Caspar said. He had grown tremendously in the last five years, if not vertically then at least horizontally. He was broad-shouldered now, with a persistent shadow of blue beard on his chin.

Beside him, Ashe Ubert confirmed the news with a nod. It had surprised Edelgard that Ashe had joined the Empire. Caspar had inducted him into the ranks, although Ashe formally belonged to Count Rowe’s army. Edelgard knew that Ashe’s family resided in what was now Rowe lands, and he chose to protect their safety over any misguided allegiances to his former nation or classmates.

“Lady Cornelia beheaded him secretly in the prison,” Ashe said grimly. “They were worried that a public execution would attract rebels.”

Edelgard nodded. It was wise of Cornelia, although Edelgard would need to exchange harsh words with Arundel about the secrecy of it. She wasn’t certain why it bothered her so much. Dimitri had, at best, annoyed her. At worst, he was a mortal enemy, one more obstacle between her and total conquest. But there was something wrong in the way that he died. Would he really murder his Uncle? Did it even matter?

“Hopefully, this will quash the last resistance in Faerghus,” Ferdinand said. He leaned against a pillar beside her throne, dark lines fringing his eyes. His hair had grown out of control. Edelgard wondered if he had even cut it since the Battle of Garreg Mach. “What is the news about the Eastern front?”

“Leicester is still split between the Empire and the Alliance,” Lysithea said. “While Lord Gloucester has become a vassal of the Empire, Lorenz has proved to be difficult.” Edelgard clenched her teeth. Gloucester was supposed to be an easy catch for the Empire; Lorenz now devoted his time to convincing his father to side with the Riegans and the Gonerils.

“And House Ordelia?” Edelgard asked.

“We are loyal to the Empire, but we have little to give,” Lysithea said. “If the Riegans gain more power, they could invade Ordelia territory, and it would be easy pickings.” Edelgard heard the tension in her voice. She understood Lysithea’s concern—after all, Lysithea’s first priority was her parents. That worried Edelgard sometimes.

Edelgard maintained a voice of authority. “We will send more troops out to Ordelia territory. From my personal garrison.” Not the Agarthans. Arundel had once offered to send his own men out to Ordelia, and the offer alone was enough to cause protest from both Lysithea and Linhardt. Edelgard had turned it down, but the offer lingered over their heads.

Lysithea nodded hesitantly.

“As long as we have Rhea, the Alliance won’t outright attack us,” Caspar said. “Dad says that they’re too afraid that we’ll kill her.”

Edelgard thought of Rhea lying in the same chambers below Enbarr that had once imprisoned Edelgard herself. Rarely did the Agarthans permit her to visit Rhea or to supervise the cruel experiments conducted on her. It took all of Edelgard’s energy to ensure that Rhea stayed in Enbarr.

As much as Edelgard detested Rhea, she knew that Arundel could just as easily make her disappear into some Agarthan hole, where Arundel would be able to operate even darker experiments on her. Who knew where those would lead? The idea of Arundel controlling the Immaculate One scared her almost as much as losing the war.

“That will not last for long,” Ferdinand said. “Soon, they’ll grow bold. As sad as it is to say…perhaps it is good that Dimitri is dead.” There it was, that same twist of the dagger in her heart. Edelgard steeled herself. “The Kingdom resistance will weaken without him. We can finally take it for good.”

* * *

Hrym territory braced on the edge of the Empire, a last little pocket of craggy foothills before the earth pitched up sharply to the mountains that bordered the Alliance. Hrym jutted out towards the dark blanket of the ocean, its waters a dark complex green that reminded Hubert of Morfis jade. Storm clouds braided the sky, and the wind skipped up whorls of sand against his face.

Arundel had agreed to meet him here. What an odd place to convene—here at the brink of the empire before the sea lapped up the land. Hubert had read the legends of the Agarthans, how they believed that the Fell Star had consumed the land in waters. The islands that strewn the channel between Adrestia and Morfis had once been great mountains; now only their battered heads poked through the waves.

“You’re here.” The wind nearly swallowed up Arundel’s snide voice. Hubert turned to see him sliding down the dunes, pallid attendants scrambling in his wake. “Good dog,” he added. Hubert did not react. Arundel was increasingly hostile to Hubert these days, and soon, he would run out of patience with Edelgard’s shadow. But for now, Hubert could still prove useful.

“Is it true that Cornelia executed Dimitri?” Hubert asked.

Arundel sniffed. “We need not worry about him anymore. I have other uses for you right now. My associates are demanding new crests.”

“More crests?” Hubert scoffed. “I thought you were making your own at this point…”

“What we are doing is beyond your ken,” Arundel said. “Do not pretend to understand it. All you need to know is that we want more.”

“I would assume that with Dimitri’s death, you would have Areadbhar. Will that not satisfy you for now?”

“That is none of your concern,” Arundel hissed, so sharply Hubert sincerely wondered if he had offended him somehow. “Your job is clear. You are to find us _more_.”

“I cannot fathom where we will get them,” Hubert said. “Most of the remaining relics are in the possession of our enemies. If the war does not progress, we cannot take them.”

“Look elsewhere then!” Arundel said. His cheeks flared with uncharacteristic color. Hubert wondered what happened to send him in such a tizzy. “Scour the archives. Search the old monastery!”

“We have already depleted the monastery of its stock of crest stones,” Hubert said. “You cannot think—”

“Then look again!” Arundel howled. “Take apart every last stone. You don’t know what Rhea was hiding.”

“Surely our efforts are better dedicated elsewhere—”

“Elsewhere? This…this is our top priority,” Arundel said. “Edelgard’s silly war…it means nothing. With the crest stones, they will all fall before us soon enough.”

Hubert steeled himself. “I beg of you not to underestimate our opponents. Without Edelgard—”

“Don’t you dare speak down to me!” Perhaps it was coincidence, but as Arundel spoke, wind blasted Hubert’s face. Over the horizon, lighting splintered across the sky. “Do not forget: this war is being fought by my army, not yours.”

Hubert felt cold flecks of rain sprinkle his skin. Any minute, the clouds would unleash upon him.

“Do not forget, Thales,” Hubert mocked, “that this war is being fought for Edelgard.”

“You need not worry about Edelgard,” Arundel said. “I have her best interests in mind. I’m not sure you do, Hubert. No fault of your own, of course. You’re simply too short-sighted to see it.”

“I do as Lady Edelgard instructs. I serve Lady Edelgard as her faithful servant—”

“Oh that is rich. I think we are all aware of how you serve Lady Edelgard,” Arundel said. Hubert flinched. It worried Hubert sometimes how Arundel used his affection for Edelgard against him. Only recently had he begun to only weaponize it. “The only reason I keep you around is because you’re her pet. Now, isn’t that gracious of me? But if the dog starts to bite, I might need to reconsider.”

Idle threats. Hubert still proved of use to him. Every now and then Arundel would snap his fingers, and Hubert would obey—typically an assassination or some other dirty job. Hubert did it not out of fealty but for Edelgard’s convenience. It was cleaner this way.

“Lady Edelgard demands to know what you are doing out here in Hrym,” Hubert said. “She has heard disturbing reports of whole towns disappearing.”

“Edelgard should mind her own affairs,” Arundel said.

“She is your Emperor,” Hubert said. “And you are operating within her borders. I require a full report of your proceedings—”

“If I were you, Lord Vestra, I would not waste time trying to threaten me,” Arundel said. “You have nothing I want. You, on the other hand…you can only lose at this point.”

“I tire of shrouded threats. If you wish to threaten me, do it directly.”

“I believe I have been plain enough,” Arundel said.

Hubert seethed, but he could not show it. The anger almost ran his vision red with blood. Had Arundel been a lesser man, perhaps Hubert would have make quick work of him. Instead, he steadied himself with a deep inhalation and clenched fists.

“We will do what we can to locate more crest stones,” Hubert said. “But Lady Edelgard’s priority is the war.”

A cold deluge clapped down. Arundel’s servants stepped forward quickly, bracketing a parasol over him to protect Arundel from the storm. The water soaked through Hubert’s clothing, the cold sinking straight through to his bones.

“Then she’ll do well to remember who is really in charge here.” He gestured to his servants, one of whom hastened to hand Hubert a small codex made of black Agarthan steel. “I have more targets I need you to—"

“Lord Arundel, you didn’t answer my question earlier,” Hubert said. “Did Cornelia really kill Dimitri?”

The question was not what caught Arundel off-guard but the implication that ran beneath it. His scowl deepened. Hubert smirked.

“He is gone,” Arundel said. “That is all you need to know. Your spies, I remind you, work for us, not against us.”

“My spies work for Lady Edelgard,” Hubert said. “And if you would like to make use of them—” He flaunted the codex, “I suggest that you also remember who is in charge.”

* * *

Edelgard’s dreams transported her back to the abandoned wing where her brother Thorsten had once dwelt. Doorknobs turned into empty rooms bereft of light, voids of oblivion dotting the endless corridors. Suddenly, she came into a room ensconced in blue light. Thorsten’s emaciated figure huddled in the corner. Edelgard reached for him, and suddenly the head snapped up. It was not Thorsten but Dimitri—eyes effulgent with madness. Fingers clawed into her wrist. Edelgard pulled away, and as she did so, Dimitri’s head toppled off and rolled into the darkness—

Edelgard woke and flung herself out of bed. The cold floors beneath her feet shocked her back into reality. For several minutes, she stood shivering in the empty room. The room was empty and dark, just as the rooms had been in her nightmares.

Waking to loneliness was the worst part of these dreams. Hubert had been gone for nearly a month now. Edelgard wondered if his spies had brought him the news about Dimitri. His trips became increasingly long, always whisking him to some obscure corner of the Empire to handle Imperial business. While Edelgard understood the necessity of his departures, part of her desperately wished that he could remain in the palace with her. His absences made her nervous. A large army and her own cadre of dear friends surrounded her, but Hubert had always been her shadow, lurking nearby to handle these matters. 

As she grounded herself, the fear slowly ebbed away to frustration. She was twenty-two years old—she ought to have been better than this. By now, surely, she should have gotten her dreams under control. She didn’t need Hubert…although she certainly wanted him.

Edelgard quickly lit a candle, hoping the light would dispel the last remnants of her nightmare. When that failed to work, she dressed herself in an evening robe and slipped out of her chambers towards the library. The guards that watched her door tried to follow her, but she quickly waved them away. Their company only reminded her of being trapped.

Several lanterns still flickered in the library. It did not surprise her to see Lysithea’s stockinged feet dangling over the edge of a large leather chair. Edelgard’s footsteps startled her, and her head quickly poked out after.

“Oh, Edelgard, it’s you,” she said.

“Where’s Linhardt? He’s usually here with you this late at night.”

Lysithea shrugged. “I sent him to bed. He has a meeting with one of your Uncle’s people in the morning.” Where Hubert devised the term “Those Who Slithered in the Dark,” Lysithea increasingly used the term “your Uncle’s people,” something that always caught Edelgard off-guard, no matter how many times she heard it.

“What are you reading?” Edelgard asked.

Lysithea showed her the cover of some arcane tome. Edelgard’s grasp of magic had improved dramatically over the years. Although she was nowhere near Lysithea or Hubert’s expertise with dark magic, she gleaned that this book had something to do with transmogrification.

“We’ve been getting reports in Ordelia,” Lysithea said. “Refugees are coming from Hrym.”

Edelgard sighed. “I have spoken to Arundel about the taxes—”

“This isn’t about taxes,” Lysithea said curtly. “It’s about your Uncle kidnapping their citizens and turning them into monsters.” Edelgard frowned. “Whole towns have been disappearing.”

“Hubert is investigating it right now,” Edelgard said. “We will get to the bottom of it—”

“And then what?” Lysithea challenged, sitting upright in her chair. “There is no point in investigating. We all know what your Uncle’s people are doing. And yet you do nothing to stop it!”

“I do everything in my power. Arundel and his ilk have resources beyond our imagining,” Edelgard said. “Do you wish to be in my position, Lysithea? To bear the burden or balancing the good of your people against the ill-wishes of the church and Those Who Slither in the Dark?”

Lysithea shirked. “I know that burden, Edelgard! Perhaps not on the same scale, but I have responsibilities too! Last time Ordelia helped the people of Hrym, the Empire invaded—”

“Not the Empire. Those Who Slither in the Dark.”

“Does it matter? Look what they did.” Lysithea curled a strand of white hair around her finger. “What point is there in dismantling the church and uniting Fodlan if it just entrenches us deeper in their power?”

“Remember, Lysithea, always remember this: if we do nothing, they will still win,” Edelgard said. “This path is not an easy one, but if were to stand aside, all that would happen is that they would conquer everything without resistance. By the time you and I came into their sphere, they had already infiltrated every court in Fodlan. Difficult as it may seem, we must work with them to work against them.”

“I know! I just…I…” Lysithea clenched the binding of the book. Her knuckles went as white as her hair. “I don’t what to do. I don’t how to explain it.”

“You don’t need to explain it,” Edelgard said. “Not to anyone. You’re burdened with a responsibility beyond your years, Lysithea, but your parents, your people…they will benefit from this, whether they realize it or not.”

Lysithea said nothing for several moments. The silence suffocated Edelgard. Edelgard wondered if Lysithea was having second thoughts. This war had worn on them all emotionally. Lysithea wasn’t even Adrestian. She had only joined Edelgard because Byleth had instructed her to.

And yet Lysithea had worked faithfully for the Empire for the last five years.

“Lorenz wrote to me,” Lysithea said. “Claude wants to have a class reunion for the Golden Deer.”

“A what?” Edelgard almost laughed at the absurdity of it. They were five years into a continental war, and Claude wanted to party? Of course, this was exactly like him. He could never take anything seriously.

“Five years ago, after the school ball, we all promised to meet back at Garreg Mach for the millennial festival. That would have been in a month. To be honest, I forgot about it, but Lorenz wrote me and said that Claude wants us all to meet again.”

“Even you?”

“Apparently Claude thinks that I’m like Lorenz—that Ordelia has only pledged to you to save our territory. He thinks I can be persuaded.”

“Can you?”

“ _No_ ,” Lysithea said firmly. “But….Claude is a competent leader, though. You always underestimate him. He takes everything very seriously, and when he seems like he’s joking, that’s when he’s the most serious.”

The only thing that had strung the Alliance together these last five years was Claude. As much as it irked Edelgard to admit, Lysithea was right.

“He’s planning something,” Edelgard said.

Lysithea nodded. “Ashe mentioned that he received a similar invitation from Sylvain Gautier. He was too afraid to tell you so he burned it. The Blue Lions are reassembling as well.”

“Claude wants to create an coalition,” Edelgard said. “He’s going to team up with the rebelling territories in the Kingdom. That’s why he’s invited you and Lorenz. He’s going to convince you both to try to join his new Alliance. With the Kingdom troops on his side, he may be able to offer Lord Gloucester and Ordelia confidence against our forces.”

“That’s what I thought as well.”

No wonder Lysithea had been grilling Edelgard about protecting Ordelia territory. She needed to weigh who would offer her the most protection. It vexed Edelgard that Lysithea’s loyalty would be tested so easily, but she tried to remind herself that Lysithea now had ties to the Empire as well. _It is natural for her to worry,_ she tried to tell herself. _If Lysithea truly wasn’t loyal, she wouldn’t give up Claude’s plan so easily._

“You understand that if you leave the Empire, I cannot protect Ordelia against Those Who Slither in the Dark?”

Lysithea nodded. “I understand.”

“That Arundel would officially see your territory as fair game?”

“I said I understand.”

“And that the last time Ordelia called on the Alliance for help, they abandoned you.”

“I _know_!”

“Then I think you should go,” Edelgard said. “Meet with Claude and the others at Garreg Mach.”

Lysithea’s eyes widened in surprise. “Why?”

“Be our eyes and ears. Get this information directly for us. I’ll send a battalion to back you up. If they’re conducting this in secret, I doubt they’ll be bringing an army with them. Perhaps we can sweep them all up in one grab.”

A soft “oh” choked out of Lysithea. It was asking her for more than Edelgard had ever asked her for before. Lysithea had known some of these people since childhood. They were her classmates, her friends.

“If you think you can’t do it, Lysithea, just say so,” Edelgard said. “We can find another way.”

In some ways, Lysithea hadn’t changed. She wanted to prove herself, and the safety of Ordelia territory depended on her fealty to Edelgard. Edelgard had capitalized on this fear by questioning her loyalty, so naturally Lysithea would become eager to demonstrate her loyalty and value. In a way, Edelgard felt bad for manipulating her, but it was a necessary request. She could send Ashe after all, but she was less certain of his loyalty. He had burned his letter; Lysithea had shared hers.

Besides, there were other carrots to dangle.

“Sleep on it,” Edelgard said. “Besides, that is not why I came to find you.” She smiled. “Lord Hevring has been asking me about you.” She raised an eyebrow. “Is there something I should know?”

“You should tell Linhardt,” Lysithea said, caught unaware by the sudden shift in conversation. “He doesn’t like it when his father interferes with his business.”

“Oh, I cannot blame him,” Edelgard said. “It is technically a tradition for nobles to ask the Emperor’s blessing for major familial decisions like property exchanges or marriage.”

Lysithea swallowed hard. “I didn’t realize. We haven’t made any formal plans or anything…” Lysithea drifted off. Her fingers began to pry at the frayed spine of the volume still clutched tightly in her hands. “He’s nervous, I think, because of the war and my…condition.” The words tumbled out like a cascade. “I worry about him. I don’t think it’s fair what I’ve done, by encouraging his affections…just one more person I’m going to leave behind when I—” She stopped short. Her eyes blinked away tears. “When I die.”

“You won’t die,” Edelgard said. “Linhardt won’t let you. I won’t let you. We’ll treat your condition. Linhardt is close to a breakthrough. Just hang in there.”

Edelgard stood, and as she walked by Lysithea, she patted her head comfortingly, just like Gerlinde used to do to her. Lysithea slumped under her touch, breaking under the weight of her decisions.

“Try to get some rest, Lysithea,” Edelgard said.

“Wait, Edelgard!” Lysithea suddenly straightened. “I’ll do it, you know. I’ll be your spy. I don’t want you to think that I’m wavering or anything—”

“I don’t, Lysithea,” Edelgard said. “I trust you.”

As Edelgard left the room, she could not help but feel that she had scored a small victory.

* * *

A fortnight passed. Lysithea prepared to leave for Garreg Mach, and so too did Randolph’s garrison close behind her. The day before she was due to leave, Ashe appeared in Edelgard’s cabinet.

While Edelgard hadn’t known Ashe well during their school days, she had remembered him as a cheerful boy who had quickly become part of what Dorothea used to call the “kitchen clique”—a cadre of mostly Blue Lions who monopolized cooking duty. Little details returned to her—a love of tales of chivalry, some bleak association with Lord Lonato, a general willingness to assist in times of need. He was perpetual stuck in Edelgard’s mind as a teenage boy with boundless enthusiasm.

The man who came before her was definitely not that boy. His face was gray and wan, almost like his hair, and young as he was, worry lines stretched tautly at his mouth.

“I want to go with Lysithea,” he demanded without introduction.

Edelgard glanced up from her papers. She sat at her desk, Dorothea at one side of her side, Petra on the other.

“No,” she said.

“Why not?”

“Because too many people complicates things,” Edelgard said. “We cannot risk being found out.”

“If she goes alone—”

“Tell me this, Ashe,” Edelgard said. “Why did you not show me the letter the second it arrived.”

“I was scared,” Ashe said. “I did not want you to think that I was communicating with the enemy.”

“Are they your enemy?”

Ashe grimaced. “I have served this army for four years. Why do you question me now?”

“Answer the question,” Edelgard said.

“Look, we were school friends,” Ashe said. “But my entire family is in Empire lands now, and I understand that they will just as easily kill my siblings as they did my adoptive father.”

“I believe you,” Edelgard said, “but I maintain that we can only send one. Lysithea is right for the job. Claude wants to court House Ordelia, and he will share things with her that he won’t with you.”

“Because I am a commoner.”

“Because you are the adoptive son of Lord Lonato, who they already see as a traitor,” Edelgard said. Ashe flinched. “Your time will come. In the meantime, you serve as my representative in Count Rowe’s army.”

Ashe slumped. “Why me? I am nothing but a grunt to Gwendal and Rowe. At least send me out with the Bergliezes. I can be useful to them.”

“You see, that is why I find you useful,” Edelgard said. “If Cornelia is infiltrating Rowe’s court, then I need to know about it.”

A fierce knock came at the door and then it opened without invitation. Linhardt marched into the room.

“I want you to reconsider sending Lysithea out,” Linhardt said. Edelgard groaned and dropped her head in her hands. _Perfect timing as always, Linhardt._

“I will go in her stead!” Ashe said quickly.

“Yes, that is an ideal solution,” Linhardt said.

“Look, Linhardt, I gave Lysithea an opportunity to back out—”

“She doesn’t really want to go,” Linhardt said, “but she’s convinced that she has to.”

“Lysithea is our best option for this job,” Edelgard said. “She understands that. You need to understand that as well Linhardt.”

“Her health is not what it was,” Linhardt said. “We cannot afford to overtax her, and you already work her too hard as it is.”

“Enough!” Dorotha clapped her hands. “Edelgard has spoken, and now it is time for you boys to listen. None of us like the idea of sending Lysithea out, but if this goes right, the war could be over in weeks.”

Linhardt and Ashe both fell silent.

“If we can launch a sneak attack now, then Lysithea gets to take a break, and you get to go home to your siblings, Ashe. Isn’t that what we all want?”

Edelgard wasn’t religious, but if she were, she might have dropped to her knees and thanked the goddess for Dorothea.

“I apologize, your majesty,” Ashe said with a bow. “I will return to Count Rowe.” He left, still sizzling with discontent. Edelgard threw her pen down on the table.

“Petra, will you go after him and calm him down?” Dorothea asked. Edelgard was not religious, but if there was a goddess or a god, she thanked them for Dorothea.

Petra pumped her arm. “I am on the mission!”

Linhardt hovered at Edelgard’s desk. “After this, I want you to promise me that you will let her take a break. This stress is not good for her health.” Edelgard recognized something in his glance: a wavering fear born out of love. Linhardt devoted himself to few things. Lysithea was one of them.

“Of course,” Edelgard said. “So long as she consents to a break. You’ve tried convincing her to slow down before, and I don’t recall it working.” 

Linhardt stared her down. “If anything happens to her—”

“It is a risk we will have to take,” Edelgard said. “Have faith in her. She’s the most powerful mage we know. She took down Jeritza once. She’ll be fine.”

Another knock came at the door. Edelgard groaned.

“What is it?” she snapped.

A knight shyly entered and genuflected before her. “I apologize, your majesty, for disrupting, but Lord Vestra has returned.”

Edelgard felt a spark of anticipation. Dorothea smiled.

“You hear that, Linhardt?” Dorothea placed both hands on his shoulders and steered him out of the room. “It is time for us to go.”

“Should I ask him to report to you, your majesty?” the knight asked.

Edelgard shook her head. “Allow him to settle in first. He must be exhausted.”

But waiting proved to be the most difficult part. She tried to finish her paperwork, to read over the reports scrawled in Lord Hevring’s impossibly tiny hand, or to stamp Bergliez’s latest requests to infiltrate the Kingdom. But her mind kept straying to Hubert. It had been weeks since she saw him.

There was formal business to discuss—what had he discovered about Arundel in Hrym? What was the status of their eastern front? What did he know about Dimitri’s execution? But Edelgard tired of such formalities. She just needed to _see_ him.

Finally, her impatience won out. She left her office and traveled down the corridor to the apartments of the Minister of the Interior.

It was a silly thing to call that wing, seeing as Hubert rarely dwelled in the apartments. He spent long weeks away from the palace, and when he returned, he passed more nights in Edelgard’s chambers than not. But Edelgard knew that he would return there first before announcing himself to her.

She asked his manservant to announce her and waited at the door as he summoned his master. But it was taking far too long, and Edelgard entered anyways. Their affair hardly felt like a secret anymore. Even if it wasn’t necessarily public, Edelgard doubted that anyone in the palace didn’t at least suspect.

Hubert had clearly just emerged from a bath, wrapped in a long green silk robe. His hair—so much shorter than it had been in their school days—was damply combed back, and Edelgard could smell the sandalwood musk of his shaving oil from here.

“Ah, your majesty has arrived,” his manservant squeaked, face red.

“Leave us,” Hubert said swiftly, and the manservant was all too eager to comply.

When the door closed, Edelgard raced to his side and embraced him, pressing her forehead against his chest. The horns of her crown dug into his chest, but he didn’t seem to mind.

She heard him chuckle. “Are you pleased to see me, your majesty?”

Edelgard closed her eyes and savored a rare moment of peace. This was what she had needed—a pillar of support amidst the chaos.

“You have no idea,” she said. Hubert’s deft fingers already began to work at the crown at her head, unhooking it chains from the back and lifting up, so that the weight was lifted up from her head. Once he freed it from her temples, his fingers massaged her scalp. She hummed in contentment.

“As much as I would like to catch up, I’m afraid I have some rather urgent business to attend to.”

“Can it not wait?” Edelgard asked, tugging at the belt of his robe with a suggestive look in her eye. Hubert inhaled sharply.

“I suppose I can spare some time if milady demands it,” he said in an uneven voice.

Later, they discussed politics wrapped in each other’s arms, flushed from the heat of their exertion. Edelgard’s cheek rested against his chest, her fingers idly tracing shapes on his stomach.

“Your Uncle wishes for us to ransack the monastery again for more crest stones,” Hubert said. “I wonder if he is aware of the meeting that will take place there. He seems increasingly distracted these days with his vile procedures.”

“Did you ever figure out what he is doing out in Hrym?”

“It is as we expected. He is no doubt experimenting on the populace and using them to fulfill his quota of demonic beasts. But what I cannot figure out is where their base is. It must be somewhere in Hrym, but I have no evidence of it thus far.” 

“It makes you wonder what he is doing with all of these crest stones,” Edelgard said. “His hunger for them will not end. We should search for more crest stones, but when we find them, I want them destroyed before he discovers them.”

“I must warn you that his primary goal seems to be the acquisition of more stones and not aiding your army,” Hubert said. “We must convince him that helping us is the fastest way to his goal. If he discovers that you have ordered these stones destroyed—”

Edelgard could not help but remember Lysithea’s words. At a certain point, they had to resist. She propped herself up and looked him straight in the face.

“He will only grow more powerful with more stones,” Edelgard said. “And as his research to implant crests strengthens, so do our investigations in removing them. We must continue on this path.”

Hubert nodded. “As you wish.”

“Tell Randolph that this is part of his mission as well,” Edelgard said. “He will be leaving tomorrow with Lysithea. If he manages to retake the monastery from the new alliance, then we can burn it to the ground once and for all. Let any hope of more crests and relics go up in ash.”

“Very well. I shall inform him,” Hubert said. “To be allying with each other like this…the Kingdom and Alliance must be desperate. I only ask that you do not pin too many of your hopes on the Ordelia girl.”

“I know her feelings waver,” Edelgard said. “But I trust Lysithea.”

“These her friends and compatriots,” Hubert said. “What happens if she turns against us?”

“Randolph’s army will have superior numbers and firepower,” Edelgard said. “They are holing up in a ransacked monastery that has lost all of its defenses. The Kingdom has already lost its prince.”

Edelgard began to feel something that she had not felt in a very long time: hope.

“What chance do they have of victory?”

_In the void of Zahras, where it was said that the wellspring of time first swelled, a voice began to stir amidst the darkness._

_\--How long do you intend to sleep?—the soundless voice ebbed and flowed, like the temporal currents that entwined both beginning and end —Like so much rain, a pool of blood has fallen to the ground. As spears and arrows pierce the earth, it weeps. And even now…it weeps. In order to survive, they kill. And so, the people of this world are lost in an abyss of suffering. They weep as well. The only one who truly knows the nature of such things is I… Or rather, you._


	22. Resurrection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth has returned.

Hubert liked to think of himself of a man of logic and reason—an objective voice in the chaos of fundamentalism that wrecked Fodlan. Yet there were moments that reminded him that at his core he was little more than an animal of instinct, base and vicious, like a dog snarling over his food dish or a wasp protecting his den.

More often than not, it was Edelgard who activated that instinct. He was honest enough these days to understand that his desire to protect her derived from more than mere professional duty. His service was born from a complicated lattice of emotion, obligation, and personal history. Yet recognize it as much as he did, Hubert could do little to control this instinct. When Edelgard expressed discomfort, anger, fear, or pain, Hubert’s protective urge switched on like a faucet.

He watched her as she stalked back and forth in the throne room, her body nearly convulsing in fury. Tufts of hair tore from her crown where she had clenched her head. Her lips glistened with blood where she had bit herself. The frenzy invaded her eyes—like a madman.

“How?” she snarled. The Black Eagle Strike Force watched her—voiceless, still statues overshadowed by Edelgard’s rage. “How is _she_ still alive?”

Hubert saw red. He forced himself to stay still and emotionless. He held his shoulders straight and his head tall, but his knuckles turned white as he clenched his hands behind his back. Beneath the mask of calm, he felt an urge to leave the throne room, call for a horse, and ride to Garreg Mach himself. He imagined himself slipping into the ruins in the dead of night and finding Byleth. A single slash across the throat perhaps or a garrote in the dark; he might fill their well with poison or hang her from the steeple.

“How?” Edelgard tore off her crown and threw it across the throne room. The clatter of metal against stone echoed in the high chambers of the room. “I saw her die! I saw her fall into the void!”

Lysithea stood in front of her, still clad in her riding gear. She stood stiffly, hands folded in front of her, appearing far older than her twenty years. She did not flinch as Edelgard paced in front of her.

“She said she had been sleeping,” Lysithea said without a hint of irony.

Edelgard made a choked noise, half-laugh, half scream. Hubert found his hand straying the dagger tucked at his waist. He caught himself mid-motion and clenched his fists instead.

“No, no,” Edelgard said. “They’re lying. They’ve had her this whole time. That’s why the war has been dragging on. It must be.”

“As hard as it is to believe, I think she’s telling the truth,” Lysithea said. “Local villagers said that they found her sleeping in a river.”

“Lies!” Edelgard screamed. She collapsed in her throne, her fists slamming down on the arm of it.

“Edelgard, control yourself,” Ferdinand said.

“We will kill Byleth,” Hubert found himself saying without thinking. The words had come unbidden from his mouth. He wanted to calm her, to assure her that all was well, to promise her that he would take care of everything.

“We can’t kill Byleth,” Edelgard said. “No one can kill Byleth. She’s prescient. She will burn all of Fodlan before we ever get the chance to land a hit on her.”

“We cannot give up now,” Dorothea said. “Byleth is not prescient, and if we give ourselves into those rumors—”

“They’re not rumors,” Lysithea said. “She knows everything, Edelgard. She knows what I’ve been doing here. She knows that Arundel has been experimenting in Hrym.”

Edelgard’s eyes widened. “ _How?_ ” she snarled.

Lysithea shrugged. “That I don’t know.”

Ferdinand stepped forward. “Edelgard, I understand your present ire, but we must consider our options with rationality.” Hubert snorted. It surprised him to hear such words coming from Ferdinand of all people, but perhaps the man had finally listened to Hubert after all these years. “Please, Lysithea, tell us precisely what occurred during this reunion.”

Lysithea nodded. “As expected, Claude was meeting up with the rebelling Kingdom nobles to discuss a potential treaty.”

Edelgard bit her knuckle. She was trying hard to suppress any further explosive reactions. Hubert wanted to reach for her. Instead, he quietly plotted how to finally rid her of Byleth once and for all.

“Claude had assembled all of the former Golden Deer and what remains of the former Blue Lions,” Lysithea said. “There is now a formal accord between the Eastern Kingdom and the Alliance. Byleth’s reappearance was unexpected. I watched her as she almost singlehandedly wiped out a nest of bandits in the ruins.”

“What is their next move?” Edelgard asked.

“Judith of House Daphnel has promised them reinforcements,” Lysithea said. “They will meet her in Ailell Valley and take them, so as to attract attention.”

“And what will they do with these troops?” Hubert asked.

“They will retake the Bridge of Myrddin, removing the threat from the Gloucester lands so that Lord Gloucester will rejoin with the Alliance,” Lysithea said. “If that happens, my parents will likely follow suit.”

“And then the whole Alliance slips out of our grasp,” Edelgard said. “What did she say about you?”

“She did not tell Claude what I was doing here,” Lysithea said. “But she merely asked if I had taken her advice. I had tried to tell her that I was in Ordelia, but she looked at me strangely and said ‘You look healthy, so you must have taken my advice.’”

“Vague and inconclusive,” Hubert said. “We cannot depend on it.”

“For once, I agree with Hubert,” Ferdinand said. “We cannot obsess over these inconsistent statements of hers. Rather, we must focus our attention on what we do know, which is that there will be an exchange of troops in Ailell.”

“Precisely,” Hubert said. “The valley will prove to be a convenient corridor for them to move troops unless we secure it. If we manage to ambush them, we can have a tactical advantage and wipe out these reinforcements before they even have an opportunity to engage with Gloucester.”

The idea seemed to revive Edelgard’s spirits, if only slightly. She lifted her head and nodded.

“What do we need to do?”

“Count Rowe would be the most expedient option,” Hubert said. “Although I would feel more confident if had one of the Strike Force supervising the battle. Count Rowe is hardly a reliable ally.”

“We could send Ashe,” Caspar chimed in. “He knows Count Rowe!”

Ashe nodded. “S-sure.”

“With all due respect to Ubert, I am not certain that he is the most appropriate option,” Hubert dryly remarked. “He would be facing former friends, and logically, this would not be a sound decision on our part.”

“No, no, I swear I will be faithful,” Ashe sputtered. The color had suddenly drained from his faces, making his freckles pop against his ghost white fear. _Why was he so nervous?_ Hubert wondered, _if his loyalty were so true._ “There is no one left for me in the Kingdom. I will steel myself. I will prove—”

Edelgard fell back in the throne. Hubert appraised her carefully. Her eyes had not lost that keen light of perseverance, but something else rattled in her brain. The meeting was going nowhere, Hubert decided. Any more lingering on the subject of Byleth would no longer be productive.

“Your majesty, perhaps it is time to call in Count Bergliez now,” Hubert said. “You must meet with him before he deploys for the northern front.”

“Very well. Bring him forth,” Edelgard said. “Strike Force, you are dismissed.” Hubert stayed planted by Edelgard’s throne as the others filtered out of the room. Only Caspar remained behind.

Count Bergliez had earned a few more scars since the war began. The armor he wore before the Emperor was more ceremonial than practical. Edelgard knew that his real armor bore the brunt of five years of constant fighting.

“Your majesty.” Count Bergliez bowed. “Lord Vestra,” he said with a side eye towards Hubert. “With all due respect, Lord Vestra, I must speak to the Emperor about matters that do not concern the household. Your presence is not warranted.”

_Ah, this game again._ Hubert was not in the mood.

“Lord Vestra shall remain,” Edelgard said, her voice on edge. “I do not have the patience for your politicking today, Count Bergliez. What do you have to tell me?”

“I assume, your majesty, that you have heard the fate of my dear brother, Randolph.”

_Oh, now it is ‘dear’ brother._ Hubert smirked. He recalled how Bergliez once asked him to take Randolph out of the equation. But now that Randolph was dead, the maligned step-brother was more of a convenient pawn than he had ever been alive. Bergliez would no doubt harangue on the sacrifices his family had given during the war as a way to claim more of its treasure.

“My condolences,” Edelgard said.

“Yes, an unfortunate loss for us all,” Bergliez said. “I fear that more losses are to come in our future.”

“Because of Byleth?” Edelgard asked bitterly.

“Of who?” Bergliez asked.

“Professor Byleth, Dad,” Caspar said. “From Garreg Mach. She was the one who helped the Golden Deer win at Gronder.”

“Oh.” He scoffed. “I do not worry about some overhyped teacher. No, your majesty, I bring graver reports from the north. About Prince Dimitri.”

“He is dead,” Hubert said.

“Really?” Bergliez mocked. “Is that why he was spotting taking down an imperial garrison singlehandedly?” Hubert’s face fell. Edelgard sat up in her seat. “Yes, they say that he was like a madman. The carnage was impressive.”

“There must be a mistake,” Hubert said. “Cornelia—”

“Cornelia cannot be trusted,” Bergliez said. “We’ve had reports of three more sightings since then.”

“Why have I not heard of this before?” Hubert asked.

“Perhaps if you were more focused on your primary duties,” Bergliez sneered, “most of which I remind you take place outside of the Emperor’s bedchambers.”

“Dad!” Caspar yelled, his face beet red. Edelgard did not react to the barb. It was as if she hadn’t even heard it. Hubert rolled his fists behind his back, but he did not engage with Bergliez’s taunt. The man was already growing too bold. There was no reason to reward his behavior.

Edelgard suddenly laughed. The laughter echoed in the buttresses of the throne room, so sharp and pointed that Caspar flinched. Hubert could see the anger sizzling beneath the surface. 

“Are all the dead insistent on rising?” Edelgard asked. “Everything we have planned, it is ruined now.”

“He is without friends or support,” Bergliez said. “The Eastern Lords have largely gathered in the Oghma Mountains. If we can keep him away from their influence—”

“We need him to hunt him down immediately,” Hubert said. “Time to put the dog to sleep. It would be a mercy killing.”

“So we must keep the Eastern Lords at bay,” Edelgard said, “infiltrate the Alliance in Ailell, prevent an invasion at Myrddin, and hunt down the ghost Prince: is that all?”

“I would not worry about Myrddin,” Bergliez said. “There are plenty of minor Alliance lords seeking to use this war to advance their station. Call upon Acheron or Gloucester. Make them prove themselves.”

“Be careful with Gloucester,” Hubert said. “I would recommend sending Ladislava and her troops to Myrddin immediately. Gloucester will no doubt grow worried with the sudden influx of troops at his border. So if the Alliance does try sweet talking him to return to their influence, he will remember more readily what is at stake.”

Edelgard rubbed her temples. “Hubert, you will discuss these matters with the Bergliezes. I trust you to make sure that Myrddin is well defended.”

“As you wish, your majesty.”

Hubert left the throne room with Bergliez. Bergliez would deploy soon, and then Hubert’s headache might finally go away. But they were no sooner out of the throne room than Bergliez began his next assault.

“I would like to remind you,” Bergliez said, “that you cannot have everything, Hubert. If you truly cared about the Emperor and her Empire, you would realize that the most important thing right now is to ensure that there is an heir in place should the Emperor fall in battle.”

“This hardly the time to be talking of succession,” Hubert said.

“Emperor Hildegard gave birth to the future Emperor Ragnar during war with the Kingdom,” Bergliez said. “Edelgard’s own father married his first wife during the Merchant’s Uprising. Your little sham engagement is not fooling anyone anymore. If you really wish to stake your place beside the Emperor, then you ought to surrender your title and do it properly.”

There was much Hubert didn’t want to tell Bergliez. A man like him, so entrenched into noble traditions, would likely balk at the idea that Edelgard would not have successors. That she would pass off her crown to someone unrelated to her—to someone deserving. Bergliez would likely just see it as another opportunity to advance his house.

“All in due time,” Hubert said in a steady voice. “In the meantime, I hope that you do not think that this trite conversation will distract me from the fact that your soldiers have been withholding information from my agents.”

Bergliez laughed. “Perhaps we both have something the other wants.” He slammed a rough hand on Hubert’s back. “My generals will be prepared to send the troops to Myrddin on her Majesty’s word.” He turned away from Hubert and disappeared down a staircase.

Caspar lingered. His complexion was still a bright carmine. “Um, Hubert, you know that I don’t agree with my dad on these things, right?”

Hubert had forgotten Caspar was there. He rolled his eyes. “I understand.”

“Good.” Caspar laughed nervously. “Because I like Edelgard just fine…but not in that way! No offense to her, but I don’t really agree with dad about her marriage and—”

Hubert chose this moment to just walk away from Caspar. The day was young, the war was long, and there was much to do.

* * *

The spy posed as an Almyran merchant. Claude should have been more careful. Perhaps Claude could manage to conceal his paternal heritage from the average milksop, but Hubert had long suspected his foreign parentage. Almyrans were extraordinarily resistant to interrogation, but Hubert could surmise the basic scheme—the man had followed Lysithea from Garreg Mach and would report back to Claude posthaste. This meant that Claude was suspicious of Lysithea’s whereabouts.

“Incarcerate him for the time being,” Hubert said. “Take him out to one of the prison ships. Make sure he cannot escape.” The black-clad interrogator nodded.

“I thought Edelgard instructed you to free him,” Ferdinand’s voice intruded. Hubert groaned. He turned to see Ferdinand lingering the door. Although no longer a titled heir, the guards around the palace were still hesitant to stop him from annoying Hubert almost incessantly. “I believe she cited a lack of sufficient evidence.”

“The evidence is sufficient, but I shall admit that some of it is circumstantial,” Hubert said. “The man will not be hung, which was my first suggestion. Merely taken out of the equation until we can make our next move. If he is innocent, he merely loses a few weeks before he is freed.”

Ferdinand scoffed. “Typical Hubert. And I suppose you shall say no word of this to Edelgard?”

“Are you here for any other purpose than to obstruct my duties?” Hubert asked icily.

“Yes, as a matter of fact. Perhaps this discussion would be suited best over a cup of tea… or coffee or burned rubber or whatever it is that you imbibe.” Ferdinand asked. Even the jest was asked in a weary, cautious manner.

Hubert’s eyes narrowed. “What do you want?”

“Tea. I thought that would be obvious.” Ferdinand smiled, but it did not reach his eyes.

They sat on one of the verandas that overlooked the scope of the city. Withered vines crawled up the posts, still locked in their winter dormancy. Ferdinand made light chatter as the servants brought them their tea. He was meticulous as always, scooping and steeping his own tea. But there was something in his movements that made Hubert think that he was purposely delaying, waiting until the servants left the room.

“I suppose there is an ulterior motive to this engagement,” Hubert said once the servants had left them.

“Always so suspicious, Hubert,” Ferdinand said. He twirled an idle spoon against his tea cup; the spoon screeched against the fine china, an uncharacteristic faux pas on part of Ferdinand. “But I suppose I ought to just out with it. I want to be sent to Myrddin with Ladislava.”

It was so unexpected that Hubert almost laughed. “And how is that deserving of such secrecy?”

“Because I believe that Edelgard will refuse to comply with my demands,” Ferdinand said. “She has never recognized my talents, and this opportunity would prove ample demonstration of my value.”

Hubert shook his head. “I do not think that is what it is. Myrddin is not too far from Aegir lands.”

“Fine. Despite Edelgard’s attempts to divest my family of its land, we still reside there,” Ferdinand said. “The idea of a potential Alliance invasion is worrisome, I admit.”

“No, there’s something more,” Hubert said. “Do you believe that this will earn you back your title or your lands?”

“It is not a matter of recompense. It’s a matter of proving my worth,” Ferdinand said. “Edie is always speaking of meritocracy, yet she denies me the chance to prove my merit.”

“Edie?” Hubert raised an eyebrow. “Ah, so you’ve had your annual tryst with Dorothea, I see.”

Ferdinand colored slightly. He covered his embarrassment by fiddling with his tea. “I can hear your judgment, Hubert, and you can save it. I hardly see the difference between my relationship with Dorothea and your affair with Edelgard.”

“Hardly any different? I fail to see the similarities. I have devoted myself to one woman consistently my entire life. You on the other hand seem determined to make light with a common woman with no regard for commitment.”

“I am not the one afraid of commitment!” Ferdinand said.

“She is a woman determined to marry into the nobility, and yet she still won’t take you,” Hubert said. “How does that make you feel?”

“You would not understand her reservations. Not every courtship needs to proceed with the same intensity and fervor. Have you ever considered that you and Edie are overly dependent on one another?”

“I suppose Dorothea’s reluctance must derive from the fact that you are no longer in possession of a title, fortune, or lands,” Hubert said. “Is this desire to throw yourself at Myrddin some misguided attempt to retrieve your familial title to impress her?”

“You are being unjust to her,” Ferdinand said. “And to me! I do not know what I must have done to deserve this.”

Hubert was silent for a hot moment. Finally, he grumbled, “Do not call her Edie again.”

Ferdinand scoffed. “You have always been a jealous man.”

“I still do not perceive why you insist on throwing yourself away like this,” Hubert said. “If all goes well, nothing will happen, and if it goes poorly, you’ll be facing Byleth herself at Myrddin—a threat that we cannot take lightly.”

“I yearn to be useful, Hubert,” Ferdinand said. “Edelgard will not accept my counsel. She has stripped me of everything. She claims she has purged the nobility, but to me, it seems as though she has only purged my father and has taken out the rest of her anger on me.”

“Now you are being the unjust one,” Hubert said. “Edelgard merely believes that the Aegirs have profited through tyranny. She wishes to create a world where merit decides the prime minister.”

“Then let me go,” Ferdinand said. “I will prove myself through my labor, my blood, and my life that I have this nation’s best interests in mind.”

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

“She will not give me the time of day,” Ferdinand said. “But she listens to you. Not that you ever choose to give her proper counsel.”

“If you go on this foolish errand, I will not mourn you if you die,” Hubert said.

“The fact that you even say that tells me that it is a lie,” Ferdinand said. “Sooner or later, we’ll have to come to terms with the fact that we are friends.”

“I will speak to her,” Hubert said grudgingly. “For what it’s worth, I believe that you have demonstrated adequate value without resorting to killing yourself. You provide her majesty with keen counsel, even if she is not like to take it, and your optimism provides a necessary morale boost to the court.”

Ferdinand narrowed his eyes over the steam of his tea. “Do not compliment me, Hubert. I find it quite unsettling.”

Hubert was more than happy to comply.

* * *

The dying embers of the fire blurred the words on the page in front of Edelgard. The candles had long ago burned down to the wick, and she could feel the exhaustion in her blood. Yet she could not sleep. Not yet.

Her dark magic had improved considerably in the last several years, although she relied more on instinct than by arcane comprehension. It took her twice as long to read glyphs than it did Hubert or Lysithea, but she persisted in trying to transcribe the complex matrix of sigils and wards that blackened the pages of these forsworn grimoires.

Five years ago, when they had taken Garreg Mach, Hubert had finally accessed the texts so long censored by Seteth and his ilk. But his initial pursuals of the texts had proven ineffectual. Whatever the Church had been hiding, it was nothing that they did not already know.

Now that Byleth had returned, Edelgard returned to the task, desperate to glean even a crumb of understanding. But the longer she read, the more obfuscated the text became, until it was nothing more than lines and circles on the page.

In frustration, she shoved the book off the desk. It knocked into a pile of other discarded texts, which she had pilfered from the Imperial Library over the last several weeks. Edelgard preferred to work her office, away from the prying eyes of her servants and Arundel’s acolytes.

Her hoard of books had grown larger, however, and she didn’t want Arundel too aware of what she was researching at any one time (moot as that effort might be). Perhaps a short trip to return library books would help her wake up; it would give her a chance to clear her head before reading some more.

Coming near the library, Edelgard heard raised voices from within. It sounded like Linhardt and Lysithea.

“I dislike bickering,” Linhardt said with a sigh, a statement that made Edelgard pause in her tracks. She pulled behind a bookshelf to listen. “Can’t we just go to bed now, Lys?

“You are welcome to go,” Lysithea said. “I must keep working.”

“Lys…” Linhardt exhaled. “You’re overstressed. You won’t find anything worthwhile tonight.”

“Linhardt, the things she said…” Lysithea said. Her voice suddenly dropped, and she took a hearty pause. Edelgard imagined her sweeping the room for spies. If they caught her here, it would confirm their worst suspicions about her. “She told Claude that she could convince every member of the Black Eagles to join her side. That nobody had to die. That she could ‘ _save’_ us all. She sounded like a madwoman.”

“She _is_ a madwoman,” Linhardt said. “I must say, though, I envy her five-year sleep.”

“Linhardt, take this seriously! She kept rambling that the Black Eagles weren’t the real enemies.”

“That doesn’t mean that she knows about the Agarthans.”

“That’s exactly what it means,” Lysithea said. Her voice dipped even lower, to the point where Edelgard had to slow her breathing to hear. “All those veiled remarks about Hrym, her hints about Edelgard’s Uncle, her knowledge about my crests…If Byleth doesn’t see us as the enemy, then perhaps we could team up. We could finally get rid of Arundel’s people and stop helping them.”

Edelgard returned to the moment of the final battle at Garreg Mach, Byleth standing over her, with the bloodied sword of the creator smoking in her hands.

_I know who the true villains are. You’re not one of them._

Linhardt’s voice returned Edelgard to the present. “There is no chance that the Kingdom and the Alliance will abandon this war. Whether we like it or not, they will see us as colluding with the Agarthans. Furthermore, we currently have no way to extricate ourselves from the Agarthans. If we make the wrong move, we risk the Empire falling to the same chaos that has overtaken the other two nations. Better to work to save some people than to doom them all.”

“You sound like Hubert,” Lysithea said.

“I dislike admitting it, but perhaps Hubert is right,” Linhardt said. “Until we discover where the Agarthans’ base is, we have no chance at fighting against them, with or without Byleth.” Lysithea did not immediately respond. Edelgard wished desperately that she could peer through the bookshelf and see what was happening.

It was Linhardt who spoke again. “Lys, you know what we’re up against. We cannot risk—”

“Why are you insistent on defending evil.”

“I am not defending evil! I am defending the people I love! That includes you, you know. _Lys_ ,” he was pleading now, “you know what they are capable of. Hubert is close to pinpointing the precise location of their base. When that happens, perhaps then we can—”

Lysithea scoffed. “I don’t have that long, Linhardt.” Her voice trembled; she sounded close to tears. “With this new accord between the Alliance and the Kingdom, my parents may very well decide to follow Claude. If that happens…” The voice cracked. “They have given up everything for me, Linhardt. They’ve lost everyone else. I can’t betray them.”

Edelgard had to stifle her initial rush of emotions—a raw tangle of guilt, rage and disappointment. Lysithea would follow her parents; Edelgard always knew this. Yet the admission hurt her more than she realized. Lysithea knew what was at stake, but even she was falling to the charms of Byleth. Edelgard recalled all those years before, how Lysithea had refused to change classes. Perhaps it had been a mistake to trust her.

“Do you regret coming to the Empire?” Linhardt asked quietly.

“Linhardt…” This was a new emotion—unmitigated sorrow. “You know that I don’t. It’s…it’s just…I’m scared. I’m scared to fight against Byleth.”

_Byleth._ The very name made Edelgard seethe. Byleth had always been a problem, but now, she had become something more than just a mysterious professor or a skilled mercenary—Byleth’s powers verged on the preternatural. Edelgard had always spoke of sacrifice; the ends had always justified the means. A slow realization dawned on Edelgard: this was not just about brute force. No, she needed more than that to defeat Byleth.

Wheels began to turn.

* * *

The next morning, Hubert found Edelgard in her chambers, surrounded by her old school trunks. After they had taken Garreg Mach, Hubert had rescued Edelgard’s belongings and meticulously packed them just as he had when she had first arrived at the school. Edelgard had not spared another thought towards them. Other than a few sentimental objects, she had dismissively asked the rest to be shoved into storage.

Now, she kneeled on the floor, surrounded by crumpled uniforms pieces, sheaves of loose notes, her old wooden training axe, and other odd bits from their school days.

“Do you require assistance, your majesty?”

Edelgard shook her head. Purple troughs under her eyes told him that she had barely slept, and she wore her hair loose and disheveled, as though the maids not touched it that morning. The frantic search absorbed her so deeply that she didn’t look up as she pawed through blouses and blankets.

“Your majesty, there is something I need to tell you.”

“It can wait,” Edelgard said. “This should only take—" A sharp inhalation told Hubert that she had found what she was looking for. In her hands, she held a small antique book. Edelgard’s hands quickly opened the book and flipped through its pages, eyes scanning the pages like a hungry man hunting for crumbs. Hubert crouched next to her and read the title:

_The Secret History of Wilhelm Hresvelg, being a Treatise on the Origin of his Crest. With a Dissertation on the Nature of the Goddess and Seiros, reprinted 1094._

“Byleth gave me this book,” Edelgard said. “Do you remember? Over tea. She said that I might find it useful.”

“I do not recall it being particularly fruitful.”

“There had to be a reason for it,” Edelgard said. “Byleth has a reason for everything. Every move is carefully calculated years in advance.”

Hubert sighed. Edelgard was desperate. 

“Edelgard,” Hubert said, tipping her face away from the book, “I can understand how you must be feeling right now.” While Hubert often struggled to be the emotional vanguard, he was being sincere in this sentiment. It had taken every ounce of willpower to restrain his own desire for revenge against Byleth. “But we must refocus ourselves towards rational strategies if we hope to—”

“There is nothing rational about Byleth!” Edelgard snapped. “Byleth knows about Those Who Slither in the Dark. She knows about every step before we even take it. We cannot fight her with conventional methods.”

“So what do you wish to do? Shall we ask your Uncle for more reinforcements?”

Demonic beasts. Edelgard shuddered. She loathed the idea of relying on Arundel’s monstrous creations, but their choices were running few. Still, Byleth words stuck in her mind.

_“I know who the true villains are. You’re not one of them.”_

Byleth was trying to tell her something. All along, she was trying to warn her about something. All the little cautious hints about not letting evil overcome her. The gifts. The warnings. Her attempts to reconcile Dimitri and Edelgard.

“She wants us to stop this war,” Edelgard said, “She wants me to reconcile with Claude and Dimitri, but what I don’t understand is if that is her purpose, why she didn’t try to stop me five years ago. When I fought her and she told me she was going to sleep, she said that she had something I needed to do, but what?”

“So what you are saying is that Byleth knew that the war was coming but left you alive for some reason?” Edelgard sighed and nodded. She knew it sounded ridiculous, but what other options were there? “If that is the case—” Hubert spoke with a guarded incredulity, “And she knows of the Agarthans, then perhaps she realizes that our methods are the only way.”

“But why join the Alliance’s cause then?” Edelgard asked. “There’s something here we are missing.”

“Edelgard, please try to understand that this sort of confusion may be the very weapon that Byleth hopes to use against us,” Hubert said. “That she understands her reputation and is using it to inspire the superstitious peasants of the Alliance and Kingdom to rally against us.”

Edelgard nodded. “I understand, but there’s something wrong here, Hubert. I can feel it.”

“We cannot always trust our feelings.”

“That’s why I have you,” Edelgard said. “You always know precisely how something can go wrong.”

“Let us proceed cautiously,” Hubert said. “But we must proceed.”

“You’re right, of course,” Edelgard knocked her head against the book. _What had she been thinking?_ The very idea of Byleth had riled her into a frenzy. “Now what did you have to tell me?” Her demeanor had returned to a kind of normality.

Hubert handed her a letter. “Ferdinand has left Enbarr.”

Edelgard’s brows knit in confusion. Of all the things, she hadn’t expected that. The letter was addressed to Hubert, marked with the now-defunct seal of Aegir. On it, Ferdinand had simply written,

_I’ve decided to take a chapter out of your book, Hubert. I understand what must be done, and since Edelgard will not tolerate my reasonings, I shall simply do._

“He’s departed for the Bridge of Myrddin to assist Ladislava with its defense,” Hubert offered by way of explanation.

“I had not realized he was so serious about it,” Edelgard said. “Of all times! I need Ferdinand here.”

Hubert coughed nervously. “I dislike disagreeing with you, milady, but I believe we ought to let him go. Ferdinand will never be satisfied until he can prove to you his merit and dedication to your cause. He is a capable soldier, and a keen negotiator, and his presence in Gloucester will perhaps merit a stronger response from the Duke than merely sending a military general.”

Edelgard pursed her lips. Something worried her about this move, but she couldn’t place the feeling. Hubert was right, she assured herself. She could not let her anxieties prevent them from making key tactical decisions.

“Ferdinand is running off, and you’re here lecturing me in his stead,” Edelgard said. “The world is truly upside down.”

Hubert brushed her hair with his fingers, unknotting the strands. “I have the utmost faith that you will persevere. You will win this war. I will ensure that.”

Edelgard stared down at the book in her hands. She was no longer confident that Hubert could ensure any such thing. In taking this war, she had threatened the very gods themselves. Who could say if she would win?


	23. Gronder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With news of the Empire's defeat at Myrddin, Edelgard must overcome her grief and insecurities to face her enemies at Gronder Field.

Myrddin fell.

Edelgard was almost expecting it. It felt like a tired repetition of a story that she had read again and again.

“That foolish, stupid boy,” Dorothea said. Her voice warbled somewhere between anger and grief. She was not crying, although a film of tears gathered against her eyelashes. “He refused to listen to any reason.”

“We do not know that he is dead,” Hubert said.

“Of course he is dead,” Dorothea said. “That is what happens in war.”

Edelgard sat in her chair, her long locks strewn over the cushions. She stared out the window. She had exhausted all her rage and frustration. There was nothing left in her. The well had run dry. Instead, she noticed the way that the raindrops struck the window. One large drop would begin racing down the pane, gobbling up all the others in its path, growing larger and heavier, until it finally met the ledge and disappeared.

“We have unfortunately more dire news to relate,” Hubert said. There was a raw edge to his voice. He had barely acknowledged Ferdinand’s fall.

Caspar stepped forward hesitantly. “Petra wrote us. Byleth had sent a party to Brigid to convince the King to join their side. A scuffle broke out. We lost.”

Edelgard nodded and waved her hand. “Very well” was all she said. She could not even bear to look at them.

If Ferdinand were here, he would have told Edelgard to snap out of it. He would have railed against Edelgard for just sitting there; he would have urged her to get up, to fight, to move forward. Don’t run away, he had told her. He hadn’t run away, and now he was gone.

Edelgard did not need Byleth’s prescience to understand what would happen next. Gloucester and Ordelia would rejoin the Alliance. Byleth would march into the Empire, her beloved Claude and Dimitri pledging their strength to her. More armies would fall uselessly to her mysterious powers.

Hubert said something that sounded muffled to Edelgard’s ears. Edelgard was vaguely aware of feet trampling away, of the door shutting, and of stifled voices growing distant down the corridor. Hubert crouched in front of her, his gaze unusually tender. They were alone now.

“Edelgard, you must not lose hope,” Hubert said. He took her hands in his.

“She will march on Gronder next,” Edelgard said.

“Yes.”

“Just like all those years ago, at school…”

“Edelgard, please, you must come to your senses,” Hubert said.

“I need to rest,” she said. “I am so tired…”

“You need to act,” Hubert said. Edelgard refused to look at him. She continued to trace the slow descendance of the raindrops on the windows.

“If you will excuse me, milady, I believe I know the remedy for this.” Hubert disappeared. Edelgard heard his voice at the door. He called a servant for some task or another.

Hubert returned to her side. Edelgard felt his arms weave around her body. By instinct, she leaned into him, expecting him to follow it up with some sign of affection—a nuzzle to the neck or squeeze on the thigh. Instead, he lifted her up from her couch.

“Hubert!” Edelgard exclaimed. “What in the world do you think you’re doing?”

“Your bath is waiting, your majesty.”

“Hubert, this is not funny,” Edelgard said. “Put me down. I do not recall asking for a bath.”

“I believe your majesty often relies on my judgment to act as I see fit in such circumstances.”

“I am not a child,” Edelgard said hotly. “And you do not have to cart me around like some fainting courtier.” Hubert was not smiling—not even he could make light of their friend’s demise. But his eyes had slivered in mischief, an expression perhaps only Edelgard would recognize. “You’re enjoying this.”

He pushed open the door to her toilet with his foot. “I assure you, your majesty, I never enjoy seeing you in distress.” He set her down on the padded bench in the toilet. The bath was already full and waiting. 

Hubert dismissed the attendants curtly and took the task of disrobing Edelgard. His hands had memorized the pattern of laces down her bodice and the delicate pleats of her petticoats, each expertly divested, folded, and set aside. She tried to fight him as he did so—she could handle the task herself, she did not appreciate it when he treated her so childishly, she did not understand what she did to deserve this—but Hubert suffered the protests with the same stony expression that he saved for scrubbing blood out of the flagstones.

Yet looking towards the bath, Edelgard began to think it was not all a bad idea. Standing cold and naked in her marble boudoir, the idea of warm bath seeping into her muscles became increasingly attractive. Hubert stepped towards her.

“Don’t you dare thinking of carrying me over there,” Edelgard said.

“Very well,” came Hubert’s standard response.

Dipping into the water, Edelgard yelped. Ice cold water hit her muscles in a sharp shock. Any trace of her stupor had dissipated in a slurry of ice.

“What kind of cruel prank is this that you play on your Emperor?” Edelgard asked, teeth clattering.

Hubert had shrugged off his black coat and rolled up his sleeves. He knelt on the hard marble next to her tub.

“It is not a prank at all, your majesty. You appeared out-of-sorts, but the Empire requires you now, more than ever. I believed that a cold bath would be the most efficient way of bringing you to your senses.”

“Our friend just _died_ , Hubert. The Church is on our doorstep.”

Hubert perused the vanity, with its glittering vials of oils and stacks of perfumed soaps. He chose a bar scented with cardamom and cinnamon—his favorite, she knew. “All the more reason to remain alert and focused on our task.”

The answer grated at Edelgard. Always working. Always ready. There was never time for rest, it seemed, nor to grieve their losses. Edelgard was an Emperor, but she was also a human, and one who had just lost a close friend and valuable ally.

“I am extremely annoyed with you.”

“I am certain you will find a suitable punishment for me.”

It seemed almost like a jest or a challenge. Edelgard steeled herself. “I will. I will banish you from my bedchambers.”

“If you wish, your majesty, although I believe that you may suffer from that more than me.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you will have no one to warm you after your bath.”

Edelgard set her jaw. Hubert lathered the soap on a cloth and reached for her, but she shirked from his touch.

“If you think it so refreshing and inspiring, then you ought to join me.”

Hubert smirked. “Very well.” He began to unbutton his shirt, but Edelgard stopped him.

“I did not say you could undress.”

It was a silly punishment, but Edelgard was exhausted and irritated. She wasn’t all that committed to banishing him from her bedchambers either; Hubert had known it was an idle threat. Hubert nodded perfunctorily, hardly noting the absurdity of her request. Edelgard pulled to one side of the bath, and he clambered in, boots and all, waters sloshing over the side as he awkwardly arranged his elbows and knees to fit. Once he was settled, Edelgard swam over and settled against him. Her cheek nested against his damp collar, content to feel him shiver against her in the cold.

“What are we going to do, Hubert?” she asked.

“We are going to fight,” he said. His arms squeezed her tightly to him, a small defense against the numbing cold. “And we are going to win.”

“We lost at Gronder once already to Byleth,” Edelgard said. “What can we do differently this time?”

“War is ugly,” Hubert said. “To win, we may need to become ugly as well.”

“More demonic beasts?” The idea made Edelgard’s gorge rise.

“Not necessarily,” Hubert said. “Byleth has already proven adept against the beasts. But remember that Claude is a keen tactician as well, and he will doubtless have some trick up his sleeve. We must think like our enemies.”

Edelgard finally felt as if the bath had done its trick. Her mind turned sharp, and everything had come into focus. 

“Claude and Dimitri will both be there,” Edelgard said. “It is only right that I am there as well.” There was no response from Hubert. “Have you gone mute?”

“I believe you know very well by now my opinion on such matters,” Hubert said stonily.

“Are you going to disagree?”

A pulse of silence. Finally, he said, “May I ask why you favor this strategy?”

“Byleth and I both bear the Crest of Flames. I am truly the only person who can stand up to her. We can either draw out the war or settle things early. I will not see them trample upon my lands any further. We have a greater army. They are on our soil. We have the advantage. We should make the most of it.”

She had tried this strategy and had failed, but she was stronger now and wiser too. She had begun to unravel the mystery that was Byleth. With the full strength of the Empire behind her, she might succeed.

“I must insist that I am allowed to fight by your side.” Each word was drawn out and carefully spoken. That rare strain of desperation entered his voice, and Edelgard noticed how his embrace grew tighter around her.

“Very well, but you are not allowed to throw your life away,” she said. “You are forbidden from dying.” 

It was their sacred covenant. Fight, but do not die. Persevere another day. Fate had tethered them together, and though war was bitter and cruel, Edelgard would not lose him. He could not leave her alone.

Not like her mother. Not like her siblings. Not like Ferdinand.

* * *

The breadbasket of the Empire had been overturned. The spring had only begun to warm the earth, but as soldiers moved between Merceus and Myrddin, the fields of Gronder thawed to mud. Of course, there were no more Imperial soldiers headed towards Merceus. They squatted on the Bergliez lands, waiting for their enemy to come to them.

In all the war, Edelgard had always been the invader. Never once had the enemy come to her turf. She did not feel afraid or nervous but rather squeamish at the idea of foreign troops launching into her borders.

Standing here, overlooking the field in the shade of her tent, Edelgard could almost hear Seteth crying out their tally during the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. _Point, Golden deer!_ It stung in her mind.

Lysithea entered the tent, breaking her thoughts. “I am leaving now for Ordelia,” she said. “I will reason with my parents, but Edelgard—”

Edelgard held up a hand. “I know what they will say. What I am more interested in is what you will do, Lysithea.”

“I will return,” she said. Edelgard bit back a scoff.

“Go,” Edelgard said. There had to be something to pull Lysithea back, to keep her at her side. Edelgard felt as though her grasp was slipping on the war daily. “Wait.” Lysithea paused. “How is Linhardt’s research progressing?”

“On your Uncle’s work? It’s—”

“No. On removing your second crest,” Edelgard said. Lyisthea sharply met Edelgard’s gaze. Anger broiled behind her eyes.

“I know a threat when I hear one.”

“Excuse me?”

“You always do this,” Lysithea said. “You don’t need to remind me of my reasons for staying. I am quite aware of them myself, thank you.” Edelgard recoiled. She had not expected such a reaction. “You always do this when you think you’re going to lose me. Isn’t it telling, Edelgard, that you cannot promise to give me anything, only to take away? Take away my family, take away my lands, take away my lover?”

“Sometimes people need reminding to do what is best for the greater good.”

“You don’t care about the greater good,” Lysithea said. “You care about control. Everything must go exactly your way or not at all. You never consider anyone else’s good but your own.”

“How dare you,” Edelgard snarled. “You cannot know what I myself have given up—”

“Then you ought to be more sympathetic to those who have also lost,” Lysithea said. “It is no wonder that people are leaving you. That Bernadetta left. That Ferdinand left.”

“Ferdinand is dead.”

“Ferdinand is _alive_ ,” Lysithea said. “Or have you not heard? He defected to Byleth’s army at Myrddin.”

Rage struck Edelgard like a punch to the face. It blinded her for a solid minute and made her fumble in the dark for something to steady her. She had worried so much that Ashe would fall under Byleth’s spell, but she never expected Ferdinand to abandon her. Sorrow flooded in next, a deep, visceral clamp of the gut that made her gasp for breath.

“He was a smart man, but you were too prejudiced to listen to him,” Lysithea said.

“Stop.”

“Look what you did to his family. To his lands. To his position. He could have proven himself, but you were so inflexible and uncompromising that you would not listen.”

“I said _STOP_.”

Lysithea simmered. She had not once lost her cool. Oh, she had grown up, indeed. Edelgard rued the day that she had invited Lysithea into their study group.

“And you? Are you going to leave me as well?”

“I will return,” she said. “Someone here needs to be a voice of reason.”

She left Edelgard after that. Alone in her tent, consumed in grief and fury, Edelgard found herself without power to do anything. Edelgard wanted to command her to stay, to refuse her an exit. But Lysithea would leave either way. Edelgard only could hope that she was true to her word and that she would return.

* * *

Hubert did not take the news of Ferdinand’s defection well, although he could conceal it more skillfully than Edelgard. If before he lusted after Byleth’s neck, now his anger was entirely and wholly focused on Ferdinand.

The traitor. The liar. The deserter. The turncoat.

Hubert hoped that he would appear on Gronder’s Fields so that he could have the personal pleasure of burning him alive, of tearing through his flesh, and dissolving him in miasmas of acid.

 _He had always insisted that we were friends_. What a dupe Hubert had been. _He must have planned this. To use the cover of comradery and brotherhood._ It made Hubert sick to think that he had fallen for such a trick. This was his failing. He would ensure that it would never again come to pass.

Three armies met at the acreage, long soaked in blood. Byleth might think that she could divine the future, but Hubert had a few tricks up his sleeve. Now they would truly know the price of defying Edelgard. And while he pretended to maintain his cool and rational visage, his temper simmered beneath the surface.

At the center of the field, the Empire constructed its tall ballistae. Doubtless the armies would march there first to try to seize the weapons. There they would meet their fall.

Hubert saw Edelgard’s crimson livery from across the field. Behind her, columns of soldiers waited for their orders. To the north, the goldenrod banners of the Alliance fluttered in the wind. And to the east, Dimitri waited under tattered blue, his childhood friends loosely scattered around him, barely holding up the madman in his fury.

He could hear Edelgard’s words carry to him on the wind.

“And so we fight on.”

Like so many battles, it was a waiting game—waiting for the pieces to fall into place, waiting for the enemy to encroach just far enough. Hubert surveyed from his post in the western field. The goal was to create such chaotic warfare that the Alliance and the Kingdom would grow confused and attack each other. The Alliance, he noted, was cautious in their approach, no doubt due to Byleth’s coaching. But Dimitri charged forward, with no regard for who was on his side, making a beeline for the ballistae. 

Dimitri’s strength was a marvel to watch. It was something he had always minimized during his school days, but in the height of his madness, he unleashed the full fury of his crested power, plunging his lance into bodies and heaving them aside like bales of hay.

Someone was crying out for him to stop before he reached the central platform, but Dimitri did not listen. He dispatched the knights on the steps. With a thrust of his lance, he skewered the ballista operator. And this was it. This was the moment.

Hubert spoke a spell of fire. The platform burst into flames. Huge bolts of fire raced up towards the sky. The wood of the platform had been treated with oil, to make the fires burn hotter and faster. Between licks of flame and a screen of smoke, Dimitri bucked and flailed like a cornered animal.

Hubert’s lips curled up in satisfaction. Already, he could see the Alliance recoiling. Their frontlines inched backwards, startled by the intensity of the fire. He could not see the Kingdom forces through the bonfires, but along the south, they already begun to break up.

A shadow raced through the flames, ducking and pushing through the fire. Dimitri tumbled out on the grass. His armor smoked, and his skin blistered and peeled from the heat. He writhed on the ground to smother the flames. What survived of his battalion hurried around him in aid, but Hubert’s men had their orders.

The force of the Imperial army rushed the fragmented battalion. Dimitri staggered to his feet and fought. The burns did little to slow him.

Hubert wanted the satisfaction of killing Dimitri himself, but he had other problems.

The massive wingspan of an Almyran whitehorn wyvern overshadowed Hubert. Arrows dug into the earth at his feet. In defense, Hubert raised a shield of black magic. Bearing this great bulwark above him, he incanted the spell for meteor.

A clap erupted from the sky. Flaming boulders barreled down. One flung into the flank of the wyvern and threw the rider from its back.

Like a cat, Claude landed on his feet, his bow still clutched tightly in one hand.

“Well, as far as class reunions, this has to rank amongst the worst,” Claude said. The shield of magic faltered around Hubert; it had run its course. “Good trick though with the platform. The senseless cruelty really fits your profile.”

“You never take anything seriously, do you Claude? Or, what is it that they call you in Almyra, Khalid?” A wrinkle of dismay blipped in Claude’s cheerful veneer.

“Tell me, Hubert, being the good dog that you are, did you ever finally get Edelgard to pat you on the head? All these years, begging for her attention? Hoping that she notices you?”

Claude was stalling, but then again, so was Hubert. Claude was vulnerable without his wyvern, and the great beast was circling the battlefield, trying to bite out the shards of stone that lodged into its flank. Hubert on the other hand needed to revive his shield before he made a direct assault.

“I could help you beg if you would like. Beg for her favor and for her mercy.” Hubert’s well of magic began to refill. “The Church does Almyrans no favors. You know very well that the people of Fodlan will never accept you as their ruler. Surrender now, and she will let you return to Almyra with your life.”

Claude had always been a fast one, but he had grown stronger and quicker with the years. Hubert barely saw him notch the arrow before it whizzed past him. Hubert flung up what little shield he could, and from the last dredges of his magic, he yanked a whip of darkness around Claude’s feet. The next arrow shot upwards into the sky as Claude fell backwards. He twisted and rolled away.

Suddenly, Claude pointed and cried out: “What’s that? Edelgard’s fallen!”

Hubert regretted it almost as soon as he had turned. The whiplash of fear and sorrow caught him so suddenly that it took him a second to realize he had been tricked. But that’s all the time Claude required. Cold steel bit into Hubert’s shoulder blade as Claude tackled his back.

In a single deft movement, Hubert unsheathed the dagger from his belt and thrust it backwards into Claude’s belly. Claude hissed in his ear but did not budge. Fortunately, Hubert was much taller than Claude. His long limbs acted as leverage as he wrangled Claude from his back.

Tingling spread through Hubert’s arm, and within minutes, it hung like a dead weight from his shoulder. The blade Claude used had been poisoned, and he was rapidly losing control over its movement. Claude meanwhile keeled over. A red stain blossomed above his hips. This was the perfect moment to finish Claude off. But this was also the moment that Claude’s white wyvern descended upon Hubert, its howl of rage echoing over the battlefield. Talons opened to snatch up Hubert.

Hubert could take no risks. He had promised Edelgard that much.

Instead, he portaled himself away to safety. Claude could die another day.

* * *

When Edelgard finally faced Dimitri, she realized that death would likely have been a merciful justice for him. More animal than human now, he appeared before her, feral and snarling. Hanks of greasy yellow hair, singed black by the fires, hung over his eyes. She could even smell him: sweat and blood and smoke clung to him.

“Stab your chest, break your neck, smash your head...” He chuckled to himself before screaming at her. “I will allow you to choose your own death!”

Edelgard shrugged. “I have no intention of dying today.”

“I'm sure all of the people you've slaughtered so far thought the same!”

“As I am sure you think now.”

Dimitri clenched his lance with both hands. “I will not waste more words on you! The dead require their tribute!” he bellowed as he charged her. It reminded her of their first battle at Gronder field, when she had taunted him that in war they could fight as much as they wanted. And now here they were. She had risen. He had fallen.

When they were younger, Edelgard remembered how precise his strikes had been. Now he landed blows with brute strength, leaving her scrambling to deflect them with Aymr. This was not the time to lose control. Edelgard took a heavy breath. Her crests sang together in harmony.

She struck him along the leg. The move was carefully calculated. She failed in taking his leg off, but the injury was grievous enough to force him to his knees. Edelgard hovered over him, ready to deliver the final blow when—

The spines of the Sword of the Creator wrapped around her wrist. The sting of its heat sunk straight into her bones. Overcome, Edelgard gasped and dropped Aymr. She turned towards Byleth.

“I knew when next we met one of our paths would have to come to an end,” Edelgard said. “Your journey ends here, Professor. Forever...” With that, Edelgard grabbed the end of the sword of the creator and pulled Byleth towards her. Byleth’s eyes widened. Edelgard commanded the sword with ease—thanks no doubt to the matching crest in her blood. She continued wrenching Byleth towards her, hand over hand tugging the long spines. Byleth retracted the sword, its bumps and ridges cutting through Edelgard’s hands, and Edelgard scooped up Aymr.

Edelgard’s wrist and hands were bleeding. The edges of her armor chewed into her skin. The heat of the Sword of the Creator flushed through her body. Still, she stood tall, bracing herself for Byleth’s attack. Byleth held up a hand, about to speak, but she was not fast enough.

Dimitri staggered to his feet and charged at Edelgard.

“Dimitri, no!” Byleth screamed. She flicked the Sword of the Creator to stop him, but if the blood gushing from his torn leg did not bother him, neither would Byleth’s smack. “Dimitri, you cannot kill her yet! Dimitri, we need her!” Never had Edelgard heard Byleth so desperate, so coarse and exposed.

Dimitri ignored Byleth. He followed his charge straight at Byleth. He reared up like a crazed horse.

Claude had limped over to their side of the battlefield. He was covered in his own blood, but when he saw Dimitri charged Edelgard, he tackled and wrapped himself around Dimitri’s back. The soldiers began to heap upon Dimitri, pinning him to the ground.

As this was happening, Edelgard felt a swath of cool air. Hubert emerged from the swarm of shadow. One arm swung listlessly to the side.

“Your majesty, we ought to retreat,” he said.

“Edelgard!” Byleth said. “The time is coming. Edelgard, beware of Merceus!” As Hubert pulled Edelgard into the portal, they could still hear Byleth screaming, her voice hoarse and raw, echoing even after they could no longer see her. “Beware of the javelins of light!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting off the chapter with little bit of fluff to add to the despair and the confusion and the exhaustion of war. Only a few chapters left! I'm going to try to post them all very soon to wrap up the end of the story.


	24. Engagement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Byleth's army nears Merceus, Edelgard and Hubert begin to figure out Arundel's grand plan. The war is nearing its end, but the question remains: what will come after?

_Beware of Merceus! Beware of the javelins of light!_

Edelgard jolted awake. Her cheek felt warm and itchy where she had fallen asleep on the table. The light was still bright outside. She couldn’t even last the afternoon anymore without falling asleep.

Around her, the pile of books had only grown taller. Missives from farflung battlefields called to her attention: Count Bergliez was struggling on the northern front; Lady Vestra was reminding Edelgard not to kill her only heir in battle; Hevring had some new dispute he wanted her mediate. All the mewling Lords and their tantrums. Edelgard had no time for it.

For what seemed like the hundred time, Edelgard reached for the history that Byleth had given her. She had not touch it since the warning, but she could not help but feel that the gift had been meaningful—that there was something in it that she needed to know.

Edelgard cracked open the worn spine and began reading. The words flowed more easily in her mind than the glyphs. She followed the tired narration of Wilhelm’s birth, his pact with Seiros, and the founding of Adrestia. Some of the pages stuck together, and Edelgard had to pry them apart. Suddenly, her attention snagged on an excerpt, faintly underlined the passage in pencil; she wondered how she had missed it. Of course, before Byleth’s warning, it would never have made much sense to her.

“And so Wilhelm stole into the deepest delves of the land, disguised as one of their dread mages. And with his valiant assistants, they dismantled the pillars of light one by one. And Periandos grew worried, and so he concealed the last of the pillars with magic, so that it would be never revealed until it was used.”

Pillars of light. Byleth gave her this book and so too she had borne the warning: beware the javelins of light. They had to be the same thing.

Beside the passage in Byleth’s cramped handwriting, it read: “History repeats itself. Merceus.”

Edelgard read the passage again and again. She skimmed through the book for any other mention if it.

A shadow fell over Edelgard. “Hm, and what are you doing now?” Edelgard grew cold at the voice.

“Uncle, what are you doing back from Hrym?”

“Your little friend Ferdinand came to visit,” he purred. Arundel pried the book from Edelgard’s hands. “He tried to save his daddy from the mobs. Didn’t work.” He snorted at the title of the book. “What in the world are you doing reading some chap-book on Wilhelm?”

Edelgard’s heart raced, but she steeled her expression. “We encountered Byleth at Gronder. She gave a strange warning. I think she is going to try something at Merceus.”

“I thought we were winning this war,” Arundel said, “and yet you cannot seem to defeat a common mercenary.”

“You know very well that she is not common.”

Arundel hummed. “Tell me, Edelgard. Where did you get this book?”

“I found it in the library.”

“I don’t think you did,” he said. “This book has been banned by the church for centuries. The only remaining copies come from an Agarthan press.” What in the world was Byleth doing with an Agarthan text? Had not Edelgard been so intensely focused on the pillars and javelins and rods of light, she might have been more perturbed by this revelation.

“What are the pillars of light?” Edelgard suddenly asked. She didn’t want Arundel to pry too much farther into its origins, and it was useless trying to hide her investigation from him.

“The what now?”

Edelgard tore the book from his hands. Fragile pages crumbled at the rough touch. She fumbled for the underlined passage. “What are these?”

Arundel grinned. “They’re how we’re going to win this war.”

“What does that mean?”

Arundel patted her shoulder. “Leave everything to me, Edelgard. I know how to end this war once and for all.” He grinned. “Soon, you’ll understand.”

* * *

“This wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t insist on going to Gronder.”

Hubert glowered at Linhardt. The scholar was preparing Hubert’s daily dose of antitoxin. Claude’s poison had required several series of treatments to flush completely from Hubert’s system. Purple and green and yellow lesions sprawled in an ugly knotwork along Hubert’s upper arm.

“It is not your place to comment on battlefield strategy,” Hubert said.

“Thank the goddess,” Linhardt breathed. “I can barely keep up with my studies as it is.”

“Perhaps if you spent less time on your research to remove crests, you would find yourself less taxed by your official duties.”

Linhardt rolled his eyes. “Well, I apologize for finding a cure to the condition that could shorten your girlfriend’s life by several decades. I guess I’ll just leave her to die.”

Hubert seethed. Linhardt stirred the antitoxin with such lethargy that Hubert wondered if it was intentional. Then again, Linhardt never did anything with haste.

“In any case, I have spent most of the last fortnight researching these javelins of light Edelgard keeps ranting about.”

“Have you found anything pertinent?”

Linhardt shrugged. “Hard to know what’s pertinent when you don’t even know what you’re looking for.” He tapped the spoon sluggishly against the rim of the decanter, and this time, Hubert was certain that he was doing it to annoy him. “Anyways, I guess I’ll get to see for myself. I leave for Merceus in a few days.”

“What?” Hubert was legitimately shocked by the idea. “Whatever for?”

“Well, I promised Lysithea I’d meet her there when she returns from Ordelia. Besides, Caspar could probably use the help fortifying the place.”

“Are you not concerned by Byleth’s warning?”

“Of course I am,” Linhardt said. “But I promised Lysithea. She has to pass through Merceus regardless. If something bad does happen, I don’t want her to get caught.”

“I thought you never saw the need to put your life at risk. This sudden desire to aid with war preparations would have been useful at Gronder.”

“Well, I’m not sharing my bed with _you_ , am I?”

Hubert could have chastised him for thinking only with his nether regions, but he found that such scoldings were increasingly powerless against the Black Eagles, who would merely chime back some trite jest about his own relationship with Edelgard.

Instead, Hubert stewed in silence for a minute, annoyed that for once, Linhardt wanted to chat. Linhardt never wanted to chat. Linhardt always wanted to end his conversations with Hubert as abruptly as possible.

Suddenly, it occurred to him.

“Heh, well, isn’t this interesting? The Mr. Nonchalant is actually nervous about something,” Hubert said.

Linhardt deflected his gaze. “I am not. There’s not use in worrying about things you can’t change.”

Hubert scoffed. “Hypocrite.”

“As if you’re any better.”

“So long as Lysithea serves the Empire, she has nothing to worry about,” Hubert said.

“That’s not true, and you know it,” Linhardt said. “We’re no longer winning this war. And Lysithea…she’s more vulnerable than most. If the Alliance folks find out that she’s been helping the Empire, they’ll see her as a traitor. Who knows what they will do to her?”

“She is an exceptionally powerful mage, and you need not worry about her,” Hubert said. What had he done wrong in life to be forced to comfort Linhardt about his girlfriend?

“May I ask a question, Hubert?” Linhardt asked cautiously. “I know it’s probably useless wasting effort on this, but I suppose it cannot hurt.”

Hubert could feel the dread creep up. What in the world did Linhardt want to know? This was probably what this whole blasted conversation was leading up to.

“Out with it then,” Hubert said.

“What are your plans with Edelgard for after the war?”

“Her Majesty will embark on the second phase of her plans to—”

“No, no. I mean, for the two of you.”

Now this was really a punishment. Was this divine retribution for his patricide or perhaps Linhardt’s own special way of tormenting Hubert for some forgotten insult? 

“My personal affairs are none of your business.”

“You two must have some idea,” Linhardt said. “You have been lovers for, I don’t know, too long if you ask me.” Hubert chose not to dignify it with a response. “You’re still officially engaged, aren’t you?” Hubert continued to ignore him. Linhardt, annoyingly, pressed on. “Anyways, Lysithea and I have a plan. After the war, I’m giving up my seat in House Hevring. She’s going to give her title as well, and then nobody can ever bother us again about duties or wars or anything like that. But the longer this war drags on, the less it seems likely that it will ever come to pass.”

“What is the purpose of this conversation?”

“Nevermind,” Linhardt said. “I suppose it’s just too much trouble to ask for a bit of advice.”

“My advice is if you wish to see those plans come to pass, then you ought to take your official duties seriously. We cannot win this war unless you can help her majesty extricate herself from the Agarthans.”

“What I mean is—oh never mind.” Suddenly, the antitoxin was miraculously complete. Linhardt shoved the dose at Hubert. “I’m done with this conversation. Goodbye.”

Linhardt left the room, seemingly uncaring of the fact that it was his own laboratory. Hubert drank the toxin. The vile concoction rendered his arm numb, and the pain began to ebb away. It did nothing, however, for the anxiety that began to claw at the back of his brain. 

Hubert hadn’t had two seconds for such thoughts since the war began. Yes, they were engaged, but what did that really mean? They never did take steps towards fulfillment. What did he expect after the war?

The truth was, she would marry, and not to him. Official engagement or not, she would eventually require a diplomatic marriage—as all the emperors did. Her bed would be warmed by someone else’s body; she would give birth to someone else’s heirs; she would even come to love this other man. There would no longer be room for him; nay, their affair would have to cease. There was little chance that her consort would permit his presence, knowing their history, and for the good of the Empire, Hubert would likely comply with the exile. The longer their trysts continued, the greater despair he felt at the thought of it.

If only there was an antidote for that.

* * *

Rats had infested the palace.

Everywhere Edelgard went, they flitted around in the shadows. She would turn a corner and catch one from the edge of her vision, only to turn and see nothing. Her chambermaids never changed their faces, but their cheeks appeared plastic and shiny. When Edelgard emerged from her office or the library or the throne room, she would often run into couriers or soldiers or servants with dull eyes and wicked smiles.

When Edelgard returned to her office the next day, Byleth’s book was missing. Most of her books were gone. Instead, there was just the growing pile of letters from her generals in distant locations. Her friends were scattering—Petra was in Brigid, Caspar and Linhardt were soon to leave for Merceus, and Dorothea had taken off towards Aegir territory. Only Hubert remained, and it was increasingly difficult for them to talk without ears tuning in their conversation.

But Edelgard still had a few tricks up her sleeve.

“Send for Lord Vestra,” she ordered one of the still-faced chambermaids.

“Your majesty, would you like to meet him in the war room?” 

Edelgard shook her head. “Send him to my chambers. For personal matters.”

Rumors had come and gone about their illicit affair. A few years ago, perhaps, it still might be shocking that the Emperor slept with her Minister of the Imperial Household. But as with most rumors, it had become mundane. Arundel still scoffed at them at times, but even he had quieted his discontent.

This was good, because there was one thing that Edelgard was certain that the Agarthans did not wish to overhear.

Hubert appeared dutifully in her bed chambers. The message had come through clearly. Hubert arrived without his usual regalia; rather, he wore a simple shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows.

“You summoned me, your majesty?”

Edelgard saw the shadow of feet under the doorjamb. “Yes,” she said loudly and clearly. “I require you to assist me with something in my bed.”

Hubert frowned slightly. Usually there was not so much talking, nor such direct flirtations. Edelgard crooked her finger towards the bed. Hubert followed, surprised at how forcefully she tugged him onto the mattress. She crawled in next him, reached up, and tugged the canopies closed. They were consumed in darkness.

“Is everything all right, your majesty?”

“I need to speak to you,” Edelgard whispered. “About something dire. And there are ears everywhere.”

“Ah, yes,” Hubert stuttered. A line of light cut in through the canopies, just enough that Edelgard could see a flinch of disappointment. “I, of course, assumed that this was more business than pleasure.”

Edelgard scooted closer. “I think I understand Byleth’s warning now.” She shared with him what she had read in the book about the pillars of light and Arundel’s cryptic message. “Whatever it is, it sounds like a terrible weapon, and they’re going to use it at Merceus.”

“If this weapon is as terrible as I suspect it is, then we must use this opportunity,” Hubert said.

“What do you mean?”

“You stated that the weapon cannot be detected until it is used, correct? Well, then we have to let Arundel use it,” Hubert said. “We shall watch for it, and then we find once and for all where Arundel and his ilk have been hiding.”

“Do you think you can manage that?” Edelgard asked.

“I will commence work on it immediately,” Hubert said. “If only Linhardt hadn’t left this morning. His assistance would have been useful in this matter.”

Sitting on the shadowed bed, hands linked, knees knocking together, their heads still bowed closed—it almost felt like they were one body, one heartbeat, separated by mere atoms. Hubert could feel the anxiety radiating from her body. He wasn’t sure what comfort he could provide or even what comfort she wanted.

“I shall locate the source of these pillars of light,” he finally said. “You should rest and prepare yourself for the battles ahead. The war is nearing its end, and we need to be ready.”

“And if we lose at Merceus?”

“Then we will face them in Enbarr,” Hubert said. “But you must not think of such things, your majesty. Think instead of the future of your Empire at your impending victory.”

“I have spent so long focused on war, I do not even know what that will look like,” Edelgard said. “All I see in front me is more chaos unfolding.”

“Try to focus on the strategy then. Or—"

“I am tired, Hubert,” Edelgard said. “I just want to rest. When I imagine victory, I imagine many decades of toil still ahead. But one day, when it is time, I will find a worthy candidate to succeed me, and then I will abdicate.”

“There much work to be done, your majesty. It will be a long road. Do not give up yet.”

“Yes, but I want something to look forward to after it,” Edelgard said. “I want to rest. I want to relax and eat sweets all day without a care in the world. I want…” She ended it in a sigh. “I suppose you must think me silly.”

“It would be a just reward for a life spent in service.”

“Are you certain that I would not turn into the doddering nobles you hate so much.”

“Of course not. Quite simply, I could never hate you.”

Hubert could not help but recall his conversation with Linhardt. He and Edelgard had never discussed what would happen to them when the war ended. Hubert steeled himself. There was no reason to feel so nervous now. It was a strange sensation for him—like liquid fire filling his veins. His hands trembled as he cupped her chin.

“Your majesty, the question remains however: would you want me to follow you, even into your retirement?”

“Would you follow me then? Away from the palace? Away from a life of luxury? Towards a life of idleness and retreat?”

“That you would question my willingness to follow is almost insulting,” Hubert said. “However, that does not answer my question.”

“Yes, Hubert,” Edelgard said, sparing the smallest and saddest of smiles. “If we ever get to that point, I would want you to follow me. That is, if you so choose.”

“You know, my lady—my…love,” It was so unnatural for Hubert to speak like this, but he wanted his words to have some sort of impact. He wanted to impact the significance of what he was about to say to her. She chuckled at his awkwardness. “You realize that…we are technically still engaged.”

Edelgard cocked an eyebrow. “Hubert von Vestra, are you proposing marriage to me?”

“Technically, your majesty, it is the Emperor who must conduct the proposal.”

Edelgard brushed the hair out of his eyes. He could see a faint smile in the dark. “If we survive this war, will you marry me?”

All those years ago, Dorothea had asked if Edelgard had commanded him to marry another, would he accept? And Hubert scoffed and said he would follow whatever dictate she set out before him. Now he knew he was wrong, and now she wasn’t commanding. She was asking.

“I would be honored, Edelgard.”

* * *

On the highest hill of Enbarr, there stood an old observatory. What once had turned towards the stars now focused its gaze on the distant towers of Merceus. Hubert had manned the station ever since Edelgard had mentioned the threat from Arundel.

He had precious little time to set up the observatory. What few scientists he could scrounge that were still loyal to Edelgard and not Arundel manned the old telescopes—grinding new lenses, cleaning the scopes, polishing brass fixtures. The whole place seemed rather barbaric compared to the gloss and glow of Agarthan tools. 

Now it was just a waiting game. Waiting for Byleth’s army to encroach upon Merceus. Waiting for what would doubtless be some dumb ploy by Claude to enter the gates. Waiting for Arundel to strike.

It happened a fortnight later. Hubert almost missed it. One of the scientists woke him from his sleep. A deep glow awoke in the west. The air shimmered with magic. Spikes of brightest lights scintillated through the air. Through the lens, Hubert traced its arc through the sky.

It struck Merceus. A huge ball of light swallowed up the earth. It seared through the lens and burned Hubert’s eyes. The earth began to tremble and shake. The telescopes swung on their pivots. Glass vials crashed and shattered.

A few minutes later, the light faded, and the earth stilled. Hubert went back to the telescope. He trained it up towards the sky to follow the trails of smoke left behind by the javelins. Even here, so far away, he could discern the magic in the air; it tasted like blood.

The scientists scampered for their esoteric gauges. They wrote down measurements on the shattered chalk board. But Hubert didn’t need them. Not any more. He could see where the ground swallowed up the contrails, just before the Throat of Fodlan.

Of course. It made sense now. The strange meetings. Arundel’s insistence to gain territory.

“Attune your instruments west,” Hubert said. “Away from Merceus. Towards Hrym.”

* * *

In the end, it was Dorothea that brought back the news. The fact that Caspar and Linhardt didn’t return made sense. She had been on her way back from Aegir when it happened. While still many miles away, the explosion burned her skin. It peeled red and ugly from her face.

“The devastation, Edie,” Dorothea said. “It was like nothing I have ever seen.”

“No one could survive it,” Hubert noted. “Which must mean that—”

“Byleth is still alive,” Dorothea said. “As is most of the Alliance and Kingdom armies. As are the Almyran invaders Claude brought over.”

There was nothing left for shock anymore. What chance did they against Byleth?

“So who died then?” Edelgard snapped. “Us? Our friends. How did they even break through the walls? No one could pass except for members of the Imperial Army.”

“Lysithea let the army through the gates,” was all Dorothea said at first.

“No,” Edelgard gasped.

“How did you come to know such things?” Hubert asked. 

“I met with Ferdinand,” Dorothea said. “I was outnumbered. He was desperate, trying to plead with me to defect to their side.”

Dorothea’s loyalty should have relieved Edelgard, but it was too late for that. She had already been crushed by the weight of war.

“Tell us how it happened,” Edelgard said.

“Lysithea was able to pass through the gates. Linhardt must have granted her access, and then she let Claude and Byleth through the gates.”

“What a cold, manipulative bitch,” Edelgard growled. “I knew it. I knew we could not trust her. And what for! To lead on Linhardt like that just to crush him in the end.”

“Byleth told Lysithea to join us many years ago,” Hubert said. “So it seems she was a plant all along.”

“I don’t believe that about her,” Dorothea said. “Ferdinand said that they threatened to divest House Ordelia if she didn’t comply. She did it to try to save Linhardt. Byleth knew what was coming; Lysithea tried to save him.”

“Something more? She has singlehandedly resulted in the fall of our greatest military asset,” Hubert said. “Merceus was supposedly impenetrable. Arundel sacrificed it to give us an advantage, and what happens? She manages to escape, and Linhardt is—”

“Taken prisoner,” Dorothea said. “As was Caspar.”

Edelgard began to laugh. “Taken prisoner? What for? Is this some ancient crusade? Are they going to ransom back the lordlings to fund their army? They have no need for prisoners.”

“Ferdinand has become a disciple of Byleth too,” Dorothea said. “He insists that she knows a way to end this war without casualties.”

“There have been thousands killed already,” Hubert said dryly. “It seems as though she has already failed.”

“No, what I mean is, without anyone of us dying.”

“So she’s fine with killing peasant soldiers but not her old school friends?” Edelgard scoffed. “Some great saint she is.”

“One must wonder what exactly her aim is,” Hubert said.

“She will march on Enbarr next,” Dorothea said. “They wish to rescue Rhea from the Agarthans. I’m not sure what else we can do to stop her.”

“We can fight,” Hubert said. “And if we fall, it will not be for lack of trying.”

“Edelgard, you must leave the city,” Dorothea said. “If you die—”

“I will not leave my city,” Edelgard said. “We need to finish this war, once and for all. I will not run like a cowardly dog. My place is here.”

“Edelgard, all is lost if you are lost,” Dorothea said. “Is Byleth really powerful enough to stand against Those Who Slither in the Dark?”

Edelgard sighed. “If we die, no longer have a role to play in this. It is out of our hands.”

“Perhaps if we explained to her—”

“Listen to yourself, Dorothea,” Hubert said. “She has played into their hands the entire time. For all we know, this is Arundel’s scheme to divest Edelgard of her position. For all we know, Enbarr is next to suffer the javelins of light.”

“Ferdinand seems to believe that she will listen.”

“Ferdinand lost his vote when he turned against us,” Hubert said.

“Stop it, both of you,” Edelgard said. A strange calmness overcame her. “Dorothea, summon Petra back from Brigid immediately. Hubert and I will work on the defense of Enbarr.”

Dorothea gave a curt bow before leaving. Hubert unfurled a map of Enbarr, but Edelgard was uninterested.

“First, Bernadetta, then Ferdinand, now Lysithea” Edelgard said. “Everyone leaves me. They’re all caught in the vortex of _Byleth_.” She said it name as though it were acid on her tongue. “I can hear it in Dorothea’s voice too. She’s starting to believe.”

“Not me,” Hubert said. “I will never leave you. Besides, Dorothea had her opportunity, and she did not take it. Caspar and Linhardt did not betray you at the end.”

“We don’t know that,” Edelgard said. “We thought Ferdinand had been taken prisoner too. But no, he defected. Caspar will do whatever Linhardt does, and Linhardt would do whatever Lysithea told him.”

“You must have more faith in your allies.”

“Faith was never my strong suit,” Edelgard said. “And now we are paying most bitterly for it.”

“You are never alone while I am here,” Hubert said. “If you are so unconvinced of the loyalty and love of your subjects, allow me to be the one to prove it to you.”

Edelgard sighed. She knew his cantos by heart. “I know you are loyal, Hubert. You need not say anymore.”

“Good, because words are meaningless,” Hubert said. “I could speak for a thousand years of my love for you and never give voice to the depth of my affections. I prefer to prove it to you. Through my undying loyalty. Through my strength in battle.”

Edelgard knocked her head against his arm. “Why Hubert, you’re almost being sentimental. The world must be ending indeed.” He allowed one hand to trail through her hair.

“Edelgard, when the fight comes to Enbarr, I will have to fight.”

“I understand that.”

“I may have to fight to the death.”

Edelgard swallowed. _You’re not allowed_ , is what she wanted to say. _You have to live_ , she wanted to command, as though she had power over such things—as though she were Byleth and could easily divine such matters. It was unfair, after all that she had already sacrificed, to have to lose him too. The idea made her want to rage against the goddess who had already denied her so much.

Instead, she swallowed and choked out, “I understand.”

There was much more to be said, but as Hubert himself had confessed, words would not suffice. Instead, they left a gulf between them, empty and silent. They thought of that stolen moment in bed, with the canopies closed in around them as though the whole world was shut in with them. They thought of the proposal that would never come to fruition.

“I believe you will win,” he added unsteadily. He wanted to comfort her. That was his initial reaction, but he wasn’t sure how, and he wasn’t sure that it would be any useful.

Byleth was coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternative title for this chapter: Hubert and Linhardt's A support. 
> 
> I really set myself up when I made this fanfic in a limited perspective because it meant I couldn't write that vital scene in Merceus because Hubert and Edelgard weren't there. Alas, I promise more good action culminating in the next chapter.


	25. Parley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hubert goes to war, and this time there can be no return. But as Byleth finally enters the palace, perhaps fate will take a turn.

* * *

_If you are reading this letter, that means I have perished. As Her Majesty would never surrender to another, I can only assume she has fallen as well._

Hubert set down his pen and sighed. A knot had begun to twist in the pit of his stomach. His hand had been shaking as he wrote the letter. _Edelgard will win,_ he reminded himself, _you are a faithless fool if you think otherwise._

He continued writing:

_It greatly pains me to think of this coming to pass... That said, as the survivors, I must ask you to settle certain affairs in our stead. You must destroy the threat that slithers in the dark._

To Claude and Dimitri, this war was a mere retaliation—a revenge. They were coming to Enbarr to kill Edelgard and ensure peace for their own lands. Yes, they wanted to rescue Rhea, and yes, they spoke of peace and status quo. The truth was, that if they managed to kill Edelgard, they would be at each other’s throats to divvy up Fodlan between themselves.

Hubert needed them to understand. If they were going to insist on killing Edelgard, then they would have to inherit her burden. It took him several tries to perfect the next section of his letter.

_I am sure you must recall Monica and Tomas. Their allies yet live. They hold deep resentment against the children of the goddess and the people of the world, and they are biding their time until they can exact revenge. If left to their own devices, it is certain they will eventually bring unimaginable calamity and suffering to the world. I detected their sorcery when you took Fort Merceus. I have deduced the location of their stronghold, Shambhala. You will find its whereabouts enclosed. There is no question that they are the enemies of everyone in Fódlan. Do not allow yourselves to forget that._

This was a logical endeavor. Hubert could not be swayed by his emotions, no matter how much they clouded his mind. He would personally attend to the defense of Enbarr, and if it fell…

_I will have failed her._

The idea stung. Serving her had been his life’s purpose. Although the nature of their relationship had transformed over the years, he never lost sight of that initial desire. He had believed in her so strongly. She had overcome so much. That in itself was a remarkable victory. But mortal Edelgard perhaps was no match for immortal dragons and white-faced technomancers and Byleth…

He finished his letter:

_I believe that Her Majesty will be victorious... Even still, I must plan for her defeat as well. If you wish to lead this world, I challenge you to rise to the occasion and surpass my estimation of you. Such is your obligation as the victors... and the only fitting tribute to all that Lady Edelgard sacrificed._

The door opened behind himself. Hubert pressed a blotting paper down on the letter and quickly shoved it into a drawer. It was, to his surprise, Jeritza.

He walked in, wearing full armor, except for his horned helmet. The plate still smoked from the disaster at Fort Merceus. Hubert was surprised that he had made it out—out from under Arundel’s missiles and out from Byleth’s influence.

“They are coming,” he said in his drooping voice. “They will be at our doors soon.”

“Are you capable of fighting?” Hubert asked. Jeritza started to laugh.

“Capable? I crave for it. All these times, I’ve been hunting my prey, and now they come to me.” He said it as though he found it the funniest thing in the world.

“We must defend Her Majesty at all costs,” Hubert said. “We cannot give them any leeway.”

“I want the green haired one,” Jeritza said. “She’s mine.”

“Byleth? Yes, perhaps that would be wise,” Hubert said. Jeritza had a way of eviscerating even the strongest units. It was not that Hubert was unconfident in his abilities, but he was more than happy to yield the burden to Jertiza.

“She will try to stop you, you know,” Jeritza said. “That’s what they tried at Merceus. I am glad that they did not perish. What a waste, to see them swallowed up by the light, all at once. No fun in that.”

Hubert wished it had been so easy. There was a strange feeling rooting inside him. He would gladly give his life for Edelgard. That was not the issue. But the idea of leaving her alone, her greatest fear, as the battle claimed him—

He shook his head. Such sentimental thoughts would get him nowhere.

* * *

From Edelgard’s balcony, she could see all of Enbarr and beyond. The green hills beyond its walls had disappeared, swallowed up in a sea of men. At night, the army appeared like a wildfire spread over the hills. Their campfires smoked the sky; in the dark, they blurred together in a huge conflagration. Soon, the fires of war would consume them all.

Standing on that balcony, watching the armies crawl to her doorstep, she was reminded of those stolen moments growing up. She wished Hubert was here to wrap his arms around her and comfort, or even to drolly give her some logically derived bit of hope. But they both knew where this was headed.

She left her post to seek out Hubert. His vassals were helping him dress for war. They nervously stopped and bowed as the Emperor entered.

“You are dismissed,” she said curtly. “I will handle things from here.”

The servants passed each other nervous glances.

“You heard her majesty,” Hubert said, voice like ice. “Leave!”

They dispersed like rats. Edelgard picked up the pauldron that was about to be fitted. She had to tiptoe to reach his shoulders. He had to lean slightly so that she could buckle the laces. 

“Your majesty, allow me—"

“You helped me all those years,” she said. She remembered standing with him in the abandoned fort, standing still as his fingers worked on the delicate parts. Those fleeting touches, all they had back in the day, seemed so rife with emotion. As she clumsily helped assemble his own armor, she found herself unable to reenact those moments. “It is only fitting that I also pick up this burden.”

“You must not worry, your majesty,” Hubert said. “Enbarr will be difficult for them to take. The war is not over yet.”

“We both know where this is headed, Hubert,” Edelgard said.

“You must have faith.”

Edelgard grew frustrated with her short reach. She grabbed a chair and stood on it so that she could properly affix his cloak to his pauldrons. The cloth kept snagging and twisting. Her frustration grew audible.

Hubert suddenly clasped her hands. “Edelgard, I will return.”

“You must. You’re not allowed to die.”

The sacred covenant. The worst kind of lie.

He kissed her hard. She clung to him. When she let go, she knew it would be over. But all moments had to end. This one lasted forever and ended too soon.

“I have asked Dorothea to step in for my duties while I am gone,” Hubert said. “With any luck, it will not be more than a few days.”

Edelgard nodded. She wanted to appear strong. She wanted to _be_ strong. She always knew the cost of such war. But now that it was her turn to pay the price, she found herself wilting.

Edelgard thought over her life and wished she would have willed it to be something different. Part of her wished she could have been the Princess she was born to be—not the heir but the spare.

Perhaps if her father hadn’t been overthrown, if her mother and Uncle hadn’t been exiled, if her siblings hadn’t died, if her life proceeded upon the smooth, straight path promised by her royal birth— perhaps then she might have enjoyed a simple life. Her marriage to Hubert would have taken place the moment she turned eighteen, and she would have spent her life in service to her eldest siblings, who were so far distant in age they may as well have forgotten she was their sister. It would have been an unremarkable life. Edelgard was almost envious of it.

But the older Edelgard grew, the more she realized Arundel was right; with all the little hiccups along the way, there was very little chance that things would have gone precisely according to those early plans. In a way, since her birth, Edelgard’s life was doomed to disruption.

“If there is a chance to save yourself,” Hubert said. “Would you consider it? For me?”

Edelgard shook her head. “This must end. You know that.”

Voices carried down the hall. Footsteps became insistent.

Hubert kissed her on the forehead. “I must leave, my love.”

And Hubert went to war.

* * *

Meteors rained down from the sky. Hubert had summoned the molten rock and pelted the battalions that raced through the streets of Enbarr. Almyran wyverns flashed in the air, intertwining with Faerghus pegasi. They were matched by gargantuan demons—the flying beasts that Arundel had left behind as his last gift.

Enbarr was a city designed for war. Its hills and districts splayed around the palace strategically to protect it. One would have to cross a series of gates and walls to gain access to the core of the city. So far, Byleth and her forces had succeeded admirably. Blood choked the gutters. Fire licked through the streets.

Their encroachment made Hubert feel uneasy, but he pushed the feelings down. Now more than ever, his logical, cold reasoning was needed. Yet all of that was sapped away in a second. Riding through the smoke, like a flame chewing up the wick, was Ferdinand von Aegir. 

The sight of Ferdinand made Hubert’s blood boil. The field of his sight narrowed down to his old friend. Ferdinand halted his battalion not far from Hubert. Hubert commanded his crowd of mages to stay still and wait for his signal. _Do not lose sight_ , he told himself, _you cannot afford any mistakes._

“Running into you in the capital like this—I have to say, it’s almost sentimental,” Hubert barked.

Ferdinand grit his teeth. Once, Hubert had praised Ferdinand’s optimism. Now he wore a grave expression. He appeared ten years older than his age. The look of severity appeared too harsh on him, like a mask that didn’t quite fit.

“Hubert, she must leave.”

“Do you really think you can make her?” Hubert snapped back.

Ferdinand rounded his shoulders. He hefted his lance, but his grip was shaky. “It does not matter what I think. Those are my orders.” He flipped his visor down, and as he did so, Hubert commanded his soldiers to attack.

Ferdinand’s battalion disappeared in a whorl of fire. Ferdinand didn’t even flinch. He heaved his lance, as though he were charging down one of the many jousts he had won as a teenager. Spikes of magic nipped at his horse’s heels, but Ferdinand knew Hubert’s tricks. He zigzagged down the wide boulevard, ready to strike.

His missed his first attempt. Hubert teleported away with ease. He came up behind Ferdinand, and with all the rage that he felt in his heart, he brought down a rain of fire.

“Hubert, surrender now!” Ferdinand said. “There is still hope for you. Byleth will still—”

“I shall never betray her majesty,” Hubert said, avoiding another jut of the lance. “I am not some sniveling coward. I am not you, Ferdinand.”

“Byleth can save her,” Ferdinand pleaded. “Byleth can save all of us.”

“Then I suppose I shall die,” Hubert said, and as he said it, a sudden pain erupted in his side.

His eyes raised to the sky. Claude, on his wyvern, had finally gotten him. Hubert grit his teeth. The wind struck up around him. Black shadows whisked out in wide circles around him. But it was too late.

Barbs bit into his heel. This was not Claude nor was it Ferdinand. The force was too much to resist. He found himself choking on dirt as he was pulled down into the ground.

“We must place our faith... in Her Majesty...”

Magic overwhelmed his senses. His lungs heaved for breath as they filled up with blood. It was an assault on all sides. Hubert knew now that his end had come.

As he cast one final glance up towards the place, his mind turned back the years. Little Edelgard injured in the snow. Edelgard wrapped in his arms on the balcony. Edelgard embracing him in her room at the academy. Edelgard at the moment of her coronation. Edelgard begging him not to die. “Her victory is everything...” She was his everything. He wanted that to be his last sight, as black edged his vision. He wanted the last thought to be of _her_.

Instead, the last thing Hubert saw before he lost all sensation was Byleth.

* * *

“They have made it to the palace walls, your majesty.”

Edelgard translated it in her head. “We lost,” was what he was really saying. “Hubert is dead,” is what she really heard.

Edelgard steeled herself. She had been preparing for this moment. The final assault. The war would end here. In their last conversation, Hubert had asked her for hope, but he had never sufficed on hope himself. Instead, he would have looked at the situation logically, and Edelgard had to take comfort in that.

The long road was over.

“We have not been defeated yet!” Petra declared. Her optimism was needed but hardly effective.

Edelgard felt as though she couldn’t breathe. All of her hard work had tumbled down around her.

“Edie, what are we going to do?”

“We are going to fight,” Edelgard said. “We cannot let our friends’ sacrifices be in vain.” She had paid the cost of war. Had she not known that this was the risk all along? And yet now it felt so much more real, like a cinch around her heart.

“We cannot win,” Dorothea said. “Edie, you know this.”

“Then we must meet our deaths with courage,” Edelgard said.

There was a fervent knocking at the door of the throne room. Edelgard was glad for the distraction. A column of soldiers marched in a man in Leicester yellow, clinging to a parchment with the seal of the Crest of Flames.

“Lady Byleth seeks an audience with you,” the man said. He proffered the parchment scroll. Edelgard tore through it. A parley—Byleth was requesting a parley.

“What is this? Some sort of trick?”

“There is no need to trick us at this point,” Dorothea said. “We are on the cusp of losing.”

“It is being the first rule of battle that you cannot do an attack on a parley,” Petra said.

“If you are so set on our defeat, then perhaps we should parley,” Dorothea said. “What could we lose at this point? Ferdinand said that Byleth was determined to save everyone. Perhaps that means us too.”

Edelgard should have expected her to say it. Dorothea always hated war. Dorothea loved Edelgard and her ideals, but she never could accustom to the taste of battle.

“I am no coward,” Edelgard said. “They killed Hubert. They took Linhardt and Caspar captive—”

“We don’t know that they killed him” Dorothea said. “We thought they killed Ferdinand didn’t we? Aren’t you at least curious?”

Edelgard bit her lip. “They will not convince me otherwise. This is the only path. If I die, then they must take up my burden.”

“But what if they could help us?” Dorothea asked. “Edie, you must at least try.”

Edelgard had prepared to die. She had envisoned the battle of glory that would extinguish her life—one flame devouring the other.

“If it doesn’t work,” Dorothea said, “then we let them kill us. As you planned.”

Edelgard tore up the parchment. Her frustration was being to mingle with her grief, and suddenly, she realized she could not tell one emotion from the next.

“Fine,” she said. “We will parley. But on our terms.”

* * *

The terms were simple. Only Dimitri, Claude, and Byleth were permitted to join them in the throne. They were not allowed any weapons. Edelgard was certain that they would refuse on this one principle, but to her surprise, they all appeared.

Claude wore an easy smile, although his eyes appeared tense. Dimitri was still snarling like a feral dog. And there was Byleth, at the fore. She had not aged a day. The war had barely left its mark on her.

“El,” she said.

It always grated Edelgard to hear her say that. Edelgard racked her brain, but she could never remember a moment when she shared that nickname with Byleth. And yet Byleth always had used it.

“You fought admirably,” Edelgard said. “What brings you to my throne now?”

“El, we must cease this fighting,” Byleth said. “It is time for us to put aside our disputes and come together.”

Edelgard laughed. “You really think I would join your side? I knew where this war would end.”

“With your death!” Dimitri yelled. Edelgard rolled her eyes.

“You cannot defeat us,” Byleth said, “but you need not die. You can get revenge on the people who harmed you. You can still rule Adrestia!”

“Out of the question,” Dimitri ruled. Claude had to hold him back. Jokingly, he placed a hand over Dimitri’s mouth, only for Dimitri to wrestle him off.

“Yikes, well, Prin—excuse me, Emperor,” Claude said, “Where is Rhea?”

“As if you care, Claude,” Edelgard said. “You are not a follower of the Goddesss. I am not certain what they worship in Almyra, but I am certain it is not the Church of Seiros.” Claude scoffed. “Your concern for her is a strategic political ploy, but don’t pretend as if you actually care.”

“You speak of caring,” Dimitri howled. “You care for nothing but yourself, and you will murder anyone who stands in your way of—”

“Stop it!” Byleth’s voice echoed in the chambers. She expressed a rare emotion. This was one that Edelgard had never seen her wear before: frustration. Pure, unbridled, aggravated frustration. “You are all so incredibly, unbelievably…stubborn!” It came hot and fierce, like hammer striking molten iron. “All of you, like children, refusing to share your toys. Did you ever stop to think that maybe you all have the same goal, the same desires? Can’t you see who the real enemy is?”

“I have nothing in common with her,” Dimitri growled.

“I will not pander to the slaves of the goddess,” Edelgard seethed. “I will not uphold—”

“Stop!” Byleth screamed. “If you refuse to see the bigger picture, then I will spell it out for you. The Agarthans. Those Who Slither in the Dark. The ones who operated on you and Lysithea, _El_! The ones who caused the Tragedy at Duscur, _Dimi_! The ones who kidnapped Rhea and experimented on Flayn, _Khalid_! They’re the ones we need to beat.”

They all stared at her. The outburst was sufficient to silence them.

“I know how this story will go,” Byleth said. “I lived it so many times before. I could just kill you, El. What, Hubert, wrote a letter, right, with all of the information that we need? I could have just let Dimitri waste away and kill himself trying to kill you.” Dimitri huffed in response. “I could have used the chaos to let the Alliance crumble into pieces. Hell, I could have had Seteth rule this whole forsaken mess of a continent.”

Edelgard was numb. She wanted to react, but she wasn’t certain how. Her suspicions of Byleth’s time-turning abilities had proven correct, but she was baffled now at the intelligence that resulted from.

“More war is in our future until we fix this mess now,” Byleth said. “Whichever one of you thought that this was the path of least resistance—the way to get the most good done with the fewest deaths—well, sorry, you were wrong,” Byleth finished. “And if you won’t do it, then it will be your children who inherit this mess. None of you want that.” She swallowed hard. Her voice went soft. “ _I_ don’t want that.”

Dimitri did not speak—he merely growled. Edelgard felt her cheeks go red. A thousand thoughts raced through her head. She felt indignant, as though she wanted to correct Byleth on the numerous errors of her ways. But her voice failed her.

It was Claude, of course, who spoke. “So what do we do, teach?”

Byleth turned towards Edelgard. “I believe Hubert has pinpointed the location of the Agarthan base.”

“Yes,” Edelgard mustered. She did not want to help Byleth.

“He left it in a letter,” she said. Edelgard nodded. “I lack the magical acuity to find the base myself. Linhardt was trying to explain the Agarthan methods to me, but I think it would be much easier if we just had Hubert take us there.”

For some reason, this was the thing that made Edelgard want to cry.

“Well, I suppose you shouldn’t have killed him then.”

“I did not kill him,” Byleth said with impatience.

“Yeah, Edelgard, haven’t you been paying attention?” In addition to his usual obnoxious twirp, Claude sounded both exhausted and annoyed. “Teach made sure to spare _everyone_.” 

Emotion rushed over Edelgard. She did not want to break down in front of Claude and Dimitri. Instead, she balled her fists and inhaled deeply to steady herself. In a haughty voice, she said, “I should go see him. I will convince him to lend his aid.”

Dimitri was not finished, however. “I cannot believe that we are allowing this murderess to—”

“Go,” Byleth said to Edelgard. “I will deal with him.”

* * *

Enbarr was still Edelgard’s city. The Palace was still her home. Even though they had lost the battle, Edelgard had not relinquished control. Her chambermaids greeted her as usual. The same guards lined the halls. Outside, the city still smoked. Whole districts had crumpled into ruin, but the palace remained the same. It felt surreal.

They had brought Hubert back to his chambers, she discovered. So rarely did Edelgard go there; he was usually the one seeking her out in her chambers. She knew he was injured but not the extent of his wounds. Part of her wanted to hope that Byleth’s magical powers extended to stopping death, but the logical part of her brain made her worry.

It surprised her to see Linhardt tending to him. Linhardt barely looked up. He appeared exhausted. His face had gone ashen, and his eyes bore the weight of sorrows. 

“He’s alive,” he said curtly, as though Edelgard hadn’t gotten the news. “Barely.”

He was sprawled on his bed, unconscious. Febrile sweat slicked back his hair. His face appeared even more gaunt than usual. Edelgard could trace his skull through his cheeks.

“What happened?”

“I was not there,” Linhardt said. “I am—was—technically their prisoner.”

The immediacy began to ease away, replaced with a dull, thronging ache of concern. What a bitter fate it would be indeed if Hubert was the only one not to be salvaged from Byleth’s mysterious war.

“Linhardt, what happened at Merceus?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Linhardt said.

“I heard about Lysithea—”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it,” Linhardt snapped. He fiddled with the edges of his coat. They had begun to fray. He did eventually capitulate. “She didn’t want to betray us, you know. They made her. Byleth thought that using her would result in fewer casualties. Claude had some plan with disguises, but Byleth insisted.”

“So you have forgiven her?” Edelgard said icily. “I am not sure I can be so magnanimous.”

“I don’t know,” Linhardt said. “My heart is broken. Things will never be the same.”

It took Edelgard more strength than she realized to utter the next sentence: “We are allying ourselves with them now. That was what Lysithea wanted all along.” She stared down at Hubert, writhing in his sleep. She wished that she could reach out to him and comfort him just as he did for her all those years. “We are going to attack the Agarthans.”

“So you’re going to root out Arundel now.”

“It is now or never,” Edelgard said.

“Glad you finally came to your senses.” Edelgard flashed Linhardt an angry expression, but it slid off him as easily as water. “What? There’s no use dying when they have the same exact goals you do. It would be wasteful.”

“My plans for this world—”

“Are not given up yet,” Linhardt said. “You can still make the society you want. And now you have the assistance you need to defeat your enemies.” He shrugged. “It’s your pride that has to take a hit. Not a bad deal, if you ask me. You have too much of it anyways.”

“So you have fallen for the charms of Byleth too?”

“No,” Linhardt said. “I’m just tired of war. I’m tired of losing people I care about. You know, that includes you and Hubert, right? I never thought that we would come to be friends, but here we are.”

Edelgard slunk back in her chair. She had been determined to pursue this war until its—or her—bitter end. She glanced back down at Hubert. She had been willing to lose him too. That was the cost of war, she had always told herself. But perhaps she ought to take some advice from Linhardt’s philosophy. At least, she hadn’t lost everything.

Yet.


	26. Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final battle begins, but the end of the Agarthans is not the end of the war.

For the first time in five years, Edelgard returned to Garreg Mach. Here, they would encamp until they teased out the last particulars of Arundel’s location in Hrym. To say that things were awkward was an understatement. Soldiers gawked as she passed through the walls. Her former classmates now ducked out of her way. Even the cats seemed to scatter at her approach, although she noticed, with a bit of nostalgia, a rather fat looking tomcat with the same face markings as Mr. Burglar.

Edelgard had no interest in trying to mend broken relationships. But it soon became impossible to travel at all without incurring some sort of argument. Dimitri stalked her around the campus, and with Hubert still largely incapacitated, Edelgard had to lose him on her own.

Claude, on the other hand, resorted to his usual barbs. His eyes always tracked Edelgard. He was never far from Byleth, his precious professor. During war meetings, he undercut his words with the usual poison, and Edelgard remembered why she never trusted him in the first place.

There were other uncomfortable interactions. At one point, Edelgard thought she caught a flash of purple hair, but Bernadetta disappeared so quickly that Edelgard debated whether she had been there at all. A scowling Felix remained in place, hunting Edelgard down with his sharp gaze. She recalled some rumors of his father’s death at the hands of Arundels’ forces. She quickly looked away.

Lysithea, on the other hand, seemed determined to track Edelgard down. Edelgard was not avoiding Lysithea—that would be cowardly and immature. She was merely taking difficult routes to minimize contact. Edelgard knew that others wanted her to be sympathetic to Lysithea—Linhardt, especially. But Edelgard couldn’t summon any compassion. If it weren’t for Lysithea, she thought, she might have won this war.

So Edelgard spent most of her time in the small closet of a room. It was strange returning, almost as if she was dreaming. The room had been looted several times over in the past five years, but there were still a few reminders of her past life _as just another student_ : the worn red blanket at the foot of her bed, a plaque bearing the sigil of the Black Eagles, an old hairbrush stuck behind the desk.

At night her nightmares revolved around the deep catacombs beneath their feet. Rats ran through the corridors. The Church soldiers haunted her like ghosts. They loomed around the corners. They gasped at her from shadows. And just like she had all those years ago, she sought her comfort in Hubert. The small bed was barely wide enough for the two of them, but even that felt nostalgic.

One day, as Edelgard entered the War Room, she was surprised to see another presence.

“Well, if it isn’t the faithless child.” Rhea stood at the head of the table. She lacked the accoutrements of her status as archbishop. No crown. No glowers. No gold vestments. Just a simple white gown and frayed, unbrushed hair. She looked almost human.

_Don’t let her fool you._

“I am relieved to see that you have recovered, Archbishop,” Edelgard said coolly. As part of her agreement with Byleth, she had released Rhea, but she had not seen the archbishop since. Rumors had reached her ears of Rhea’s fragile condition. Edelgard personally hoped she would not make it.

“Your words are deception, child,” Rhea said. “You keep me confined and yet—”

“Her Majesty had nothing to do with your confinement,” Hubert said. “If anything, she is the one that insisted that you kept alive all those years.” This was a lie, and one that made Edelgard uncomfortable. She had wanted to get rid of Rhea quickly. It was Arundel who insisted on using her as a blood pump.

Of course, the only other people who could fact check this were the Agarthans themselves, and Edelgard trusted that no one would take their word as vow.

Rhea appeared skeptical. “You are a viper in the bush. You have been aiding the ancient enemies all along—”

“I have been subverting them,” Edelgard argued. “Without me, they would have succeeded, but I have held them at bay, while also ridding this land of another ancient evil.”

“Pray tell. What do you mean?” Rhea was challenging Edelgard to say it. Edelgard had gone too far. It was dangerous at this point to antagonize the church on their own turf.

“That will be enough,” Byleth said, coming to the room. Claude followed at her side as usual. Somewhere in the middle of her argument with Rhea, Dimitri had also skulked in. He leaned against the wall, one eye turned on Edelgard, with his arms crossed. “Hubert, have you recovered?”

“I am well enough to serve,” Hubert said. He still was limping slightly. There was an ugly mark covering half his chest, but time was running out. They had to move quickly before Arundel could.

Hubert explained the magic behind locating the Agarthan base in Hrym—which he called Shambhala. Edelgard noted that while everyone else seemed to react with surprise to Hubert’s revelation, Rhea’s expression remained stony and smooth. _She knew all this already,_ Edelgard thought, _at least the gist of it._ And yet for all those years, she had never made a move.

It made Edelgard’s gorge rise. It made her crest flare in her blood. It made her want to end the war right then and there. But she could restrain herself, for now.

“We will move out on the base,” Claude said. “Edelgard, what can you tell us about the Agarthan leadership?”

“Arundel—I mean, Thales will be meeting us there,” Edelgard said. “He is the leader of their faction—a technomancer of immense skill. He can transform at will—”

“I am sorry. Did you say Arundel?” Dimitri asked.

Edelgard sighed. How in the world would she explain this?

“The Agarthans are able to transform their shape to take the appearance of others,” Edelgard said. “And, for a time, Thales took the appearance of my Uncle Arundel.”

“How?” Claude and Dimitri asked simultaneously. Claude meant “how do they do that?” while Dimitri meant it more in the way of “how did he assume Arundel’s identity?”

“It has something to do with their artificial crests,” Edelgard said. “When we were in the Kingdom, when I was very young, my real Uncle was murdered and Arundel replaced him.”

“You have been under their thumb this whole time?” Claude asked, stupefied.

“Not an enviable position by any means,” Edelgard said. “My entire life was balancing the good of my people against the threat that had already invaded my nation. They subjected me to experimentation. They controlled my every move. One mistake, and Arundel would replace me with one of his clones.” Claude’s face relaxed into a softer expression of sympathy. Dimitri had turned away stubbornly, perhaps to hide his conflicted mien. But Rhea bore no compassion.

“The Empire was invaded because they fell prey to heretics and apostasy,” Rhea said. “This began with the succession of the Southern Church over a century ago and now—”

“Rhea, this is not the time,” Byleth said.

“The Agarthans caused her such pain, and yet it is the Church she seeks to destroy,” Rhea said. “I own that she is nothing more than a mere puppet, one who will betray us at the slightest provocation.”

“Well, we have no choice but to trust her,” Claude said. “We outnumber her at his point. If she tries to betray us, we can take care of her.” Claude winked at Edelgard. It took everything she had not to snap back at him. Hubert was already clenching his fists.

The meeting dispersed. Edelgard allowed Rhea to leave ahead of her. She waited, in fact, until they all left, so that it was just her and Hubert in the room, before she gathered up her things. But they were alone for a second before Lysithea burst into the room.

“Edelgard, we need to speak,” she said. She glanced to Hubert. “Do you mind, Hubert?” Hubert crossed his arms. He wasn’t going anywhere. _Better get this over with_ , Edelgard thought. She dismissed him, and he left with a hum of discontent.

“If you are here to try to apologize or explain your actions, I have heard it all already.” Ice laced her voice.

“I was returning to you, you know, but they intercepted me,” Lysithea said. “They convinced this that this was the best way, and it is, Edelgard. Please trust that.”

“The person you should be explaining this to is Linhardt,” Edelgard said. “I can understand why you did it, but I cannot forgive you.”

“Linhardt and I…well, it’s not going to work out,” Lysithea said. “The Church wants him prosecuted for his heretical research on crest removal. And I’m going to have to return to Ordelia after all this. They want to come for you too, you know.”

“I expected as much,” Edelgard said. “But I can handle myself. You need not concern yourself anymore with the matter. You are free now. You have successfully protected your family. Congratulations.”

“I don’t regret serving you all those years,” Lysithea said. “And you were sort of right in the end. By assisting your Uncle’s people, we know have the knowledge to take them down once and for all.”

There was a small part of Edelgard that wanted to acknowledge Lysithea’s wisdom as well: perhaps if she had taken Lysithea’s advice in the first place and unified with Byleth earlier, so many of these problems could have been avoided. But Edelgard was never good at acknowledging her own faults.

“Before you go, Lysithea,” Edelgard said. “I just wanted to say…don’t give up on Linhardt. He really does love you, and I don’t think he begrudges you for anything. It would be foolish after everything you’ve done to just let it go.”

Lysithea nodded. “Thank you, Edelgard.”

“Now, I hope you are ready to get your revenge.” Edelgard cast a glance out the window at the rolling mountains to the east. “We are going where the light does not shine.”

* * *

Arundel—or rather Thales—always told Edelgard that the Church robbed the light from the Agarthans. The Church had forced them underground and stole the sun from them. Descending into Shambhala, Edelgard realized that the Agarthans idolized light. Veins of bright fluorescence weaved through their black walls. The floors glittered with small lanterns. Even the Agarthans themselves wore scintillating nodes on their bodies that blinded and blistered as they fought.

Thales had always promised to bring Edelgard to Shambhala someday. She had regarded the vow as a sort of threat. This was the same tomb where they had trapped her mother. Yet now that she was here, she regarded it as a sort of a marvel. Even the hulking automatons that charged at them inspired a sense of wonder.

What would it have been like if the Church had not suppressed technological advancement? Would the wonders of Shambhala been accessible to the surface?

“We will face Thales in the next chamber,” Hubert said. “Are you ready, your majesty?”

Edelgard nodded. In her hands, she held Aymr. Was not Aymr Agarthan technology? And now she would use their own great technology against them.

Hubert activated a switch, and the doors zipped open.

Thales stood in the center of the room. Masked mages garrisoned around him. His white lips curled back as he surveyed the army invading his chambers. When he came to Edelgard, the smirk faltered.

Byleth stepped forward. The Sword of the Creator hummed in her hand.

“So you have shown yourself, Fell Star. Or, should I say…Sothis? This is who you side with Edelgard! The Progenitor God herself.” 

Byleth snaked out the Sword of the Creator. It wrapped around Thales’ wrist, but he teleported away with ease.

“Now, now, you’ll have to do better than that.”

This was Edelgard’s moment. She charged forward, both crests harmonizing in her blood. Aymr flashed. The great axe crushed into Thales’ shoulder.

“Edelgard, Edelgard, I am so disappointed in you,” he taunted, “but not surprised. You have taken the side of the Church after all. You have compromised everything that you believed in and for what?”

“I will not let you control me any longer,” Edelgard said. She swung again, this time knocking Thales down to the ground.

Thales struggled to stand. Edelgard watched with satisfaction, but Rhea called out: “No! He’s—”

A purple glyph illuminated around his body. The light filled the chamber. The earth began to shake and tremble. “For all Agarthans,” he cackled, “let there be light!”

Edelgard suddenly realized what was happening. Hubert threw himself over her. “Your majesty, we must evacuate immediately.” But his words were swallowed by the thunderous roar of the earth splitting above their heads. Screams erupted as the ceiling collapsed. Pillars of rock plunged down towards the corridor.

Rhea and Byleth were both staring up into the sky. There Edelgard saw what she had missed at Merceus: missiles of light honing on Shambhala.

Rhea suddenly leapt into the air, so high she must have been propelled by magic. Edelgard watched, slackjawed, as Rhea launched into the sky. Her body emitted a pulse of light of its own. Her limbs stretched and transformed. Great wings unfolded from her back.

_The Immaculate One_. Just as Thales had warned her. Rhea had transformed into a massive dragon.

A great bolt of fiery light streamed from Rhea’s open maw. Missiles crumbled on impact. But there were too many for even Rhea to destroy. One slammed into the flank of her monstrous belly. It exploded into her. Viscous droplets of green blood sprayed down.

Hubert was still shielding Edelgard’s body. “Now, your majesty. Please.”

She glanced around. Claude was waiting two steps behind Byleth while Dimitri herded his troops away. A desperate thought struck Edelgard: where was Thales?

But quickly she saw him, pinned beneath a fallen boulder. His empty eyes gaped open. His mouth hung open. He was dead.

_He was dead._

If there ever a moment of joy in this wretched war, Edelgard felt it then. A sense of liberation flooded through her. Arundel was dead. She was free from him forever.

Rhea’s body crashed to the floor. Byleth rushed forward as Rhea shrunk back into her human form. The earth stilled. Silence returned.

They had survived the onslaught.

“They’re gone,” Edelgard said. “Hubert, the Agarthans are gone.”

“For now,” Hubert said, but even his logic couldn’t tamper with her relief.

* * *

The Agarthans were not all dead. There were more battles to be fought. Nemesis challenged them on the Caledonian plateau. And Edelgard wondered if these battles would ever truly cease.

It was after the battle with Nemesis, however, that it ended for her.

Church soldiers surrounded the Imperial encampment, and Edelgard found herself at the wrong end of a sword. Thunderbrand Catherine was leading the charge.

“Your time is up, Emperor,” she said haughtily.

“That wretched girl will finally pay for the sins that she has wrought.” It was Rhea’s voice. Edelgard spun around. Hubert’s hands glowed hot, and she grabbed his wrist before he doomed them all.

“I will not forgive you for what you have done to us all,” Rhea said.

“Because of Her Majesty, the rats that you were content to ignore have finally been dealt with,” Hubert said.

Byleth came running over, screaming wildly. “What are you doing?”

“I want them both taken into custody,” Rhea said. “They cannot be acquitted of their grave crimes.”

“No, Rhea, you must understand,” Byleth babbled, “you cannot do this.”

Edelgard held up her hands in peace. “Let us not make a scene of this,” she said. “I will go into your remand.”

Byleth’s eyes bugged out. “What do you mean?”

“Your majesty, are you certain?” Hubert said.

“We cannot win this fight,” Edelgard said. “It is best for us not to fight them.”

She was tired. She had fought so much, and yet it was never enough. Her goals, when seemed so attainable five years ago, were more distant now than they had ever been. What point was there to fighting the Church now? Byleth would take their side, and she would win again.

Byleth continued raving at Rhea as the soldiers took Edelgard away. The soldiers shackled Edelgard and led her to a cell deep within Garreg Mach. She had never seen this part of the monastery before. The cell had no window, and powerful magic blocked the door. She had hoped, at the very least, that they would imprison her with Hubert at her side, but they tore him away from her before pushing her into the cell. 

So Edelgard waited in the cell alone. There was one stone bench to sit on and a magically imbued light that flickered a faint blue on the wall. She waited there for what seemed like hours. It reminded her of those long hours and days waiting for the armies to march up to her door. Perhaps she should have fought Rhea, but she had no fight left in her. 

Wherever they were, they were discussing her destiny. Edelgard wondered if they would really charge with crimes against the church, after Byleth had promised her leniency. Edelgard paced the perimeter of the cell. She counted stones in the wall and drew in the dirt.

Finally, she heard footsteps. The door creaked open. It was Byleth and only Byleth.

“El, we need to talk,” she said.

“When did I tell you about that name?” Edelgard asked.

“Hm?”

“El. It is a special nickname. Only my family called me that.”

Byleth sighed. “In another time, I once followed your path. We became friends even. You told me I could call you that.”

“And then what happened? You changed your mind, rewinded time, and decided I wasn’t good enough?” Edelgard collapsed on the stone bench. “You could have helped me. You could have—”

“I have seen the other side of every path,” Byleth said. “I have tried again and again to find the route that can solve everything—”

“There is no such route,” Edelgard said.

“You don’t know what lies on the other side of this road,” Byleth said. “Everyone thinks that a Unified Fodlan is a peaceful Fodlan, but I know that not to be true. I know that border tensions still exist. That the religious and the secular will still clash. That the ethnic problems will not cease. If anything, the war made them worse.”

Edelgard sighed. No matter what anyone did, in the end, it had no effect. Perhaps there was no better tomorrow. The exhaustion grew stronger. Edelgard just wanted to sleep.

“Rhea thinks I should execute you. She has Seteth’s support. Dimitri was hesitant, you know, but he eventually gave his support as well.”

Dimitri was hesitant? Did the scales finally fall from his eyes? Had he finally summoned a shred of understanding for her plight? It was more than she was willing to grant him at least.

“They are correct,” Edelgard said. “You can say what you like about our unity, but I caused this war, and I lost it. It is only right that I die.”

“It is not right!” Byleth said. “How can you so throw away a life so preciously protected? After all we did to save you--”

“I did not require saving,” Edelgard said. “Claude, I can understand. He is brutal and politically savvy, and I think at the end of the day, he and I have the same goal. But so long as Dimitri and I live, there will never be peace in Fodlan. So you must choose, my teacher: who will it be?”

“That is not true,” Byleth said. “I can save everyone. I did save everyone.”

“It is unrealistic to try to save everyone in a war,” Edelgard said. “It cannot be done. You have to be satisfied with making sacrifices.”

“And you were so willing to give up your friends and your loved ones?”

“Willing? Yes. Although you say it as though I am some gleeful murderer. I had a vision for this world, but it failed. It is over, Byleth, for me.”

Byleth was quiet. “You could be a magnificent Emperor Edelgard. You can still do so much good.”

“The damage is done,” Edelgard said. “Were I to be Emperor now, I would not permit the Church to ever lay their hands on my nation again. That reality is incompatible with your support of Rhea and your reinstitution of the Church.”

“Edelgard, there can be a way—"

Edelgard sighed. Her head dropped into her hands. “I am so, so tired. My whole life, I have fought, fought, fought. Even if I were to become Emperor, I am not certain I have the energy to do the job well.” She closed her eyes and imagined her vision for the future. “I always imagined giving up the throne anyways, to a suitable candidate, someone who really earned it, you know? And then I would go away to a little cabin in middle of nowhere and finally rest.”

Byleth did not respond. She sat down next to Edelgard. Edelgard wondered if she would fight on this. She had wanted to save everyone. She had gone to maddeningly lengths to do so. And now Edelgard was throwing it away, right in her face.

“I will abide by your wishes,” Byleth finally said. “If you are certain that is what you wish to be done.” 

Edelgard nodded. “Now, if you would, I would like to speak to my retainer now. Bring me, Hubert.”

Byleth complied. She left, and Hubert returned. He took the seat, occupied by Byleth only moments before. He had been stripped down to a simple shirt and pants, devoid of any markings of the rank he loathed so much. The manacles clamped around his wrists suppressed his magical ability. 

“Your majesty, what is the verdict?”

“I have asked Byleth to commence with the execution,” she said. She expected something from Hubert—a remark pleading for her to reconsider, or at the very least a gasp. His silence unnerved her. “I will ask her for your clemency. You do not have to follow me this time, Hubert.”

“Your majesty, I would be honored to die by your side.”

“Hubert, this is not the occasion for fealty. I am owning up to my decisions. You need not fall for me. I never wanted you to die.”

Their sacred covenant. Somehow, they had come this far without dying, but now Edelgard was going to be the one to break it.

“I am nothing without you,” he breathed. His long fingers clenched around hers. “If you were die, I would soon to follow, whether it is by Byleth’s hand or—”

“Very well,” Edelgard said. This was their fitting end. She collapsed into him in that moment, a last moment of respite to be found in his arms before the end of it all. Just like that moment on the balcony all those years ago, their scarce moments of peace were doomed to interruption by forces that sought her destruction.

“Do you not regret following me here, knowing the end of it all?”

“Your majesty, I would do it all over again,” Hubert said. “It has been my honor…my joy, my very passion to follow you on this path.”

“I have but one regret,” Edelgard said. “We should have never waited for after the war to begin our lives together. We should have just spited them all and married. Seems rather silly in hindsight.” His hand tightened around hers.

“Edelgard, my life ended when you left for the kingdom, and it began again when you returned,” he said. “I…” His voice faltered. Edelgard smiled. Even at the end, Hubert struggled to express his emotions. He had not changed, and she would not change him. He coughed nervously. “I have always loved you,” he finally said, with an air of relief. It was as though the truth had been locked inside him all this time, begging for release.

Even at the end, he still managed to surprise her.

* * *

And this is where the story dissolves into legend. What is known is that Byleth came for them a few days later and took them up into the mountains behind Garreg Mach to formally execute them for treason against the church and war crimes. No one else attended the execution. 

Many artists afterwards would imagine the scene—Edelgard in white execution robes, trailed by her devoted servant, to the red execution hill. They would kneel side by side, hands clenched, as Byleth sent them both to perdition. Portraits would record their faces as dignified, still, bereft of passion.

The factions that still supported the church celebrated her death, and Dimitri eventually was satisfied with the news, although some say that he privately mourned her death. Some say that the Adrestian Empire died that day as it became the Adrestian Republic.

But rumors persisted for many years afterwards that Byleth never killed Edelgard. That Edelgard retired to a little cabin in the woods, just as she had always wanted. Myths rose of up about her willing abdication in exchange for a quiet life with her loyal servant in her shadow. Some even went so far as to suggest that they married, finally fulfilling the engagement made when they were mere children.

Few know what truly happened up there on that mountain. Fewer knew the true bond between Emperor and vassal. Many claim that the two never gave voice to the true depth of their feelings, but those who knew them knew that—due to the depth of their commitment— words could never suffice to capture what they felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so my massive project ends... Thank you so much to all of my readers who shared in this fic with me and who left such great comments! 
> 
> When I started this fanfiction, I had a lot of ideas about how to answer a lot of the questions Crimson Flower left unanswered. But as I kept writing this little fiction, it started turning into something more--a Golden route that subverts the idea of a golden route, a Byleth who wants to save everyone but can't, and a fitting ending for Edelgard and Hubert...that isn't their terrible terrible support ending. I wanted an ending with hope, but one that also spoke to the difficult problems left after the ending of the game.
> 
> So I hope you enjoyed this story and think of an ending that you find fitting. That said, this strange little timeline I wrote is setting up another fic that I am publishing, so if you do want to know about how I envision Edelgard and Hubert's ending, be sure to check out my story, Terminus.


End file.
